Ehwmatt wrote:I dunno, people found a way to live for centuries without antidepressants. I think they are an overbearing crutch for many people. It's all the more convincing when psychological medicine still hasn't determined the exact chemical/physical causes of many of the ailments they dole out drugs for.
I don't think they did, necessarily. For centuries London has kept very good records of what people died of: you don't hear of too many people dying of grief, sorrow, black despair, melancholy and heartbreak any more. Those weren't euphamisms for suicide, they were given as genuine cause of death. People in deep depression can find just getting out of bed, showering and getting dressed totally overwhelming. It isn't hard to take that a little bit further to the days before penicillin and the like to see how being so down that you can't eat, can't keep clean, can't do anything, can end up killing you.
Depression isn't one simple thing. In some cases, like mine, it's situationally triggered; something horrible happens in your life that you just aren't psychologically prepared to handle and everything gets thrown out of balance. In some cases, it's repeatedly triggered - seasonally affected depression is pretty common in my family; most of us can handle it and just put up with feeling blue and taking things harder than normal for three months of the year, but for one of my cousins, when the light levels drop he gets severely down and takes everything in the most negative, self-destructing light. He can live without medication for those three months of the year, but his body chemistry goes right out of whack and his life is hell because nothing is in proportion. So for three months of the year he takes low-level medication to help keep an even keel, uses a light box, has friends and family talk him through his bad patches and keeps big notices up around the house reminding him that it isn't that things are so much worse, it's that he is seeing them through a lens of depression. LOTS of women get blue days right before their period. God knows that three days before I'm due, for one afternoon the slightest thing will have me in tears; someone is five minutes late and I'm convinced they've forgetten I even exist right up to the point when they turn up, someone tells me my lipstick is smeared and they might as well have told me I'm ugly as sin. I only get that for 3 or fours hours once every four weeks - some women get that for days at a time. I was horrified when one woman told me that for her, the depressive part of her manic depression was feeling like that 24-7 for weeks at a time. If she didn't use meds to keep her on an even keel, when she went through a depressive patch, it would get so bad that she would totally isolate herself from everybody because she couldn't cope with feeling so rejected all the time, even though intellectually she knew that wasn't the case.
Mind you, I am very aware that there are people who use their depression as an excuse to get out of being responsible for their lives, and that does make me angry, but even worse are the people who
aren't depressed but who claim to be so they can get attention and get out of their responsibilities. I've known someone like that for 20 years now; 20 years ago she would tell people she was dyslexic (she wasn't, she just had shitty spelling), 12 years ago it was irritable bowel syndrome (she doesn't have it, she just eats very fatty food too fast and gets indigestion), 7 years ago she claimed she had chronic fatigue (she didn't, but it was an excuse to get her husband and kids to do all the dull chores; the moment something interesting was involved she had energy to burn), these days she claims to have 'mild aspergers' as an excuse for being selfish and ignoring social niceties and every time she feels she isn't the centre of attention, she pulls a pout and sighs loudly until someone asks her what is wrong: "Oh, I'm just going through one of my depressed cycles; I'm manic depressive. It's harder to handle when no one cares about you." Cue ego stroking.
This woman I want to beat to a bloody pulp, and sadly, there are many like her.
Why treat life as a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving in an attractive & well-preserved body? Get there by skidding in sideways, a glass of wine in one hand, chocolate in the other, body totally worn out, screaming WOOHOO! What a ride!