[At the start, this paced out like one of my writing without pausing games, but in the end I did stall momentarily here and there. Still, this piece is very much legit.]
Writing without pausing – that's the name of the game, isn't it? Well, for one,
compared to then, I type much faster – what with the job that I do
(I am a software engineer) – now I get so much lesser time to
think. Te good part- well, since I did not write a single blog for so
long, I make a lot of mistakes.
So, let me see, what
was I thinking of a short while back? Inebriation, like, of course,
that has to be it! And yes, depression. This one theory that I
chanced upon while sober, and now I cannot seem to let it go. The
theory, briefly, is this – that depression is the withdrawal symptom
of the addiction to humiliation, and/or degradation. I think there is
a difference, but when I write that I also think what I mean is that
there is actually no difference – go figure!
We are addicted to
humiliation, isn't it? It is that simple. Now, let me tell you,
before you start doubting me and making snide remarks about all of
this, I am really a connoisseur on depression, Fact is, my mother, my
aunt, so many uncles that I cannot keep count, are a prey to this
debilitating, and all consuming disease. As far as my own depression
goes, it is really exceedingly simple – it is not depression at
all, but a mild form of psychosis, with a dash of neurosis thrown in.
And it is funny, that although I frequently talk aloud with myself, I
am not schizophrenic. I am very much positive that it isn't so,
because all the voices that go on inside my head (and yes, quite
ceaseless) are very much my own.
But, onward with my
theory – stand aside my own depression, may it never bar the way –
the addiction to the degradation of self. It is really funny – and
it is also one of the darkest aspects of our own selves, os I am
pretty darn sure that should anybody chance to read this, they will
not admit to any of these in their own miserable selves. Do you have
that one constant, nagging dream - a wakeful dream, not one that
disturbs the configurations of your sleep – that you are doing
something that you really, really hate to do? Somebody told me that
that is OCD, but I am pretty much sure that, just like homosexuality,
we all have just a little bit of it in all of us. For me it is hair
on the bathroom floor – that simple! Hair, for God's sake! I cannot
quite tell you how much I abhor hair on the bathroom floor. I never,
practically never, enter a bathroom barefooted. Rubber soles beneath
my skin – that is my poison (after one has quit smoking – the one
great habit (no matter what Freud claims to the otherwise) – what
else is there, anyway?). And, funny thing is, so long as you have
hair, on some or any part of your body, at some point, it is going to
manifest itself atop the cover on your drain. So, I have these
horrid, vivid daytime dreams that I have hair – and, that wet,
horrid, bathroom floor hair – in no other place more sacred than my
holy mouth!
Speak of torture!
Now, I ask myself – why do I have these dreams so very recurrent (I
think we better cease to call these dreams – maybe, thoughts?
Certainly not fantasies!)? It feeds my degradation addiction. It is
practically the only thing that keeps me from collapsing altogether.
It is my little safety valve, and I am proud that it is no more
sinister than this.
This is what I am
speaking of. Depression sufferers, did you ever notice this? Your
depression, almost always, and no matter what you might believe, has
a very earthly trigger. Of course, you might argue that the trigger
itself is of no consequence, and just about anything in its place
ranging from the death of a cat to global warming could have pushed
you on your way upon the highway to hell with equal or greater
urgency, and yet it does seem that your depression also always needs
to find a humble, worldly fire to feed it. And again, just about noone
I met with depression has a depression in the middle of a crisis. It
might be the adrenaline thing, or whatever chemical mash up that works
(as I said, I am a software engineer), but severe depression (the
ones that occur in fits and spasms and seem to make marvellous
contortions at the expense of your sanity) always occurs 'after' the
completion of a personal crisis or tragedy. It may be a very recently
concluded episode, or one from your very remote past that has left an indelible imprint upon your subconscious (does that even exist?),
but it is 'always' past tense.
So, my question is
(and a horrible asker that I am) – is it possible to get addicted
to degradation? And is depression merely a manifestation of the
withdrawal symptoms of the addiction to degradation? Withdrawal
symptoms can be awful – I would know since I evolved from three
quarters of a pack a day smoker to a non-smoker in the course of a
single day – and the only thing that keeps me from starting on it
again is that I do not wish to drag me through that ordeal a second
time – what if all our current treatment of depression has taken
off on the wrong foot absolutely? I believe current treatment of
depression attempts to raise the serotonin and endorphin levels of a
person and is designed to make that person 'happier'. Instead, what
if we actually did the reverse – make the person realize what a
terrible crisis it is that they are going through and what horrid
shadows their current persona is when compared to their cheerful,
unadulterated past? I believe that wen a patient of acute depression
is telling you how morbid his or her life has become, the person
does not actually need your help in making it better. What that
person needs, instead, is your concurrence – that you 'believe'
that their humiliation is very real and their degradation absolute.
That would, then, feed their inner Narcissus, and possibly and
somewhat inadvertently steer them on the road to recovery.
Yours sincerely,
Jude
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