writing depression (ha, get it? thats a pun, of a synonym)

[firsty]

i found this at bookslut, or maud newton, or one of those blogs or something. it's an interesting article, relevant, i think, perhaps something for discussion or debate or something. i dont know. fuck it. who gives a shit anyway. blah. heh. wa wa wa. wee!

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/666933.html

Prozac in motion
By Neri Livneh

I always say that I have had the privilege of knowing the No. 1 user of Prozac in the country. It was 15 years ago. One of my girlfriends - who had an IQ on the threshold of genius and was also frenetic, with a tendency toward wildly fluctuating moods, as aggressive as a herd of elephants and occasionally as soft as pumpkin puree, marvelously attentive and impatient, generous to the point of giving away all her expensive clothing and yet as stingy as a calculating librarian - was in the throes of a writer's block that attacked her in the midst of her first book of prose (which was never published).

After she disappeared for several weeks (whereas previously, she had called me dozens of times a day in addition to paying me surprise nighttime visits), she called me all excited and happy as a lark, and told me that her new psychiatrist, the one who had replaced his predecessor in the job, whom she had cleverly dubbed "Ms. Ery," had given her a new medication to try, which "as you can hear, my dear, is doing wonders for me," she said. Not only had her mood improved dramatically, but her writer's block had disappeared, and within a few days she suddenly understood that she could play around with words and emotions as with modeling clay, and now she was about to finish the first draft of the book that she knew was about to change the face of Hebrew literature. And in general, she had never felt better.

I asked her for the name of the medication, and she told me "Prozac," and added: "You really should try it, Nerinkeh." But because I concluded from the name of the medication that it was a prescription drug for people who write prose, I replied that there was no point, since I didn't write prose. And in general, I told her, maybe I should begin with "Poezac" and write poems, because with three young children in the house, I could barely sit at my desk long enough to write limericks.

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After she finished laughing at my ignorance, she said: "So maybe if you take Prozac you'll finally write. The whole world is waiting for you to write a novel already," she added with the tremendous spirit of generosity that would envelop her every time she was in the manic stage of her bipolar disorder (popularly known as "manic-depression") from which, as it turned out during the hospitalization that immediately followed the Prozac stage, she had suffered all her life.

This week I was reminded of her and of pills for prose-writing when I reread, with a growing sense of depression - and simultaneous amazement - the anthology "Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression," edited by Nell Casey (Harper Perennial paperback, 2002), which I have now translated into Hebrew and which has been published by Keter. The name of the book does not reveal the hidden treasure it contains. The writers do not simply write about "depression," like every composer of country music; they write about their own depression or the depression of those closest to them (partners or siblings). Reading this book gives one the impression that serious depression has a marvelously positive effect on creativity, and one could even recommend producing a certain level of depression - or maybe even searching for creative ways in which to induce depression artificially - to enrich the world of literature with a few more writers who retain the status of having an unfulfilled potential because of a somewhat overly high dose of joie de vivre.

But of course, we must not forget that just as pain is a painful thing, depression is above all very depressing. It depresses not only one's joie de vivre (and in its extreme forms, even the very desire to live), but also its most pleasurable aspects, such as sexual urges, appetite, creativity and even sense of humor.

Almost every one of us has a taste of depression during the course of his or her life. Anyone who has ever lost someone dear to him or her (a lover, a relative or even a pet) or has experienced a significant separation, is somewhat familiar with the experience of depression. Episodes of depression can be an almost normal part of the adolescent crisis; getting old also entails, along with its other charms, a higher probability of suffering from depression. Depression is considered a common side effect in cases of stroke, heart and bypass surgery, and certain chronic and malignant diseases.

But here one must distinguish between depression and simple sadness or sorrow. This sadness is substantially different from genuine depression in at least one way: Sadness is a shade of color or nuance - a sort of pair of eyeglasses through which we view the world. But depression is the eyes themselves. Reading "Unholy Ghost" makes it clear that as opposed to people who are sad and still see the world through a spectrum of colors, those who suffer from depression see a dark and monochromatic world.
Depression that is properly treated can turn into sadness (as well as happiness, and an entire array of emotions that comprise our emotional world), and then creativity is possible as well. But I don't know of any writer or poet who has succeeded in writing any work when he was in the midst of a depression. Dahlia Ravikovitch once said that her periods of writing took place when the illness left her for a moment, whereas William Styron, winner of the Pulitzer Prize (as well as many other important awards), described in his exceptional book "Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness," the untold suffering, the impotence, the sense of a dead end and the total despair that were his lot during the entire lengthy period when, as a result of therapy by a rather irresponsible psychologist, he was denied the medical treatment that in the end saved him and helped him to become once again what he is - an exceptional writer, family man and sociable person. "Unholy Ghost," incidentally, contains an essay by Rose Styron, which is a response to her husband's "Darkness Visible."

Some people claim that writers, and creative people in general, have a stronger tendency toward depression, or that people with depressive or bipolar tendencies are more likely to be engaged in creative work, and this book seems to prove that assertion.

Depression or bipolar disorder, after they are treated, can apparently constitute excellent raw material for creativity, but first there is a need for a period of recess. The foreword to the book in question was written by Kay Redfield Jamison, a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University, author of "Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness" (Vintage) - an extraordinary book about her struggle against manic depression. Jamison writes about the way in which on the one hand, a romantic aura is attributed to manic and melancholic emotional states, and on the other hand, how there is an opposite tendency to dismiss their importance. She cites Edward Hoagland, among others, who writes in an essay also included in the book that although happy people seem to live longer than neurotic people, the human race did not develop and rise above the animal kingdom thanks to its calm and serenity.

But all these ostensibly wonderful things (which may turn the depressive or manic-depressive person into a creative asset and into an excellent subject of discussion among those around him or her, but still leaves the person miserable and sad) disappear and are replaced by an experience of total paralysis with the onset of the darkness of depression.

Hoagland relies on himself not to try to commit suicide again as a result of his unquiet soul. Virginia Heffernan (a doctoral student at Harvard University, and the founder and editor of the magazine TALK) describes the onset of darkness like this: In the middle of movies and at meetings and restaurants, she says she would suddenly have the urge to leave. She would shove her hand into her coat sleeve and turn her back on anyone who could see her. She would have an attack of shortness of breath. As soon as she found herself outside, she would crawl into a taxi, sink into the back seat and begin what she called her secret work. She would cry until she felt she had caught blood poisoning or something from her tears - and then would continue to cry. After a while the driver would ask if she was okay, and out of strict compliance with the demand for secrecy in her work contract, she would say defiantly, "yes!"

Heffernan, who began to suffer from depression at the age of 28, treated this situation as a fact that was suddenly thrust upon her, and whose hours lengthened from one day to the next. During every 24-hour period she had about three hours free of depression, and afterward only two, and in the most difficult state, only one hour, into which she had to fit everything the depression had taken away: personality, conversation, movement.

The essays in "Unholy Ghost" also point to the fact that before depression was diagnosed as an illness, it was known as "melancholy." When it was melancholy, remarks Susanna Kaysen, it was a widespread phenomenon, and everyone accepted it as an inseparable part of life. Now everyone complains about it.

Recently I noticed that in fact, almost everyone I know complains of melancholy - or depression, as it is more commonly called today - and that almost everyone I know is trying some drug or other. We all suffer from some level or other of what actor Assi Dayan has called "depression following birth. Following my birth, that is." Poet Jane Kenyon described it this way in a poem called "From the Nursery," from "Having it Out With Melancholy":

When I was born, you waited/behind a pile of linen in the nursery/and when we were alone, you lay down/on top of me pressing/the bile of desolation into every pore.

There are, however, some people who dismiss their own depression or that of others as a type of pampering that one should overcome by finding a hobby, taking Omega-3 pills or kabbala lessons, or becoming involved in sports. But depression is a situation that can and should be treated, and those who have treated their depression, like the writers in the "Unholy Ghost," report an experience that is equivalent to a rebirth, in which it is the suffering involved in the depression, and overcoming it, that now enable them to appreciate life to the fullest.

[abcrystcats]

Yeah? Well, weird article, but here's my opinion:

Depression is normal. Depression is what inspires not only CREATIVITY but the means for people to change their lives. Winston Churchill was depressed a LOT - he called it his "black dog" -- and everyone knows that Winston Churchill was a great man who did INCREDIBLE things with his life. Van Gogh was a mess, but his paintings are NOT.

Being depressed, freaked out, scared, and working THROUGH it is an amazing opportunity.

Being on antidepressants is just BULLSHIT. Sorry, just my opinion, but here it is: I was on antidepressants. They removed my suicidal tendencies, my panic attacks, my terrors. They did NOT create motivation, good feelings, optimism, or energy. On antidepressants, I wasn't angry, I wasn't miserable, I wasn't thinking about guns or blades, but I also didn't give a good god damn about getting into a better place. I was complacent. I was, "Yeah, well whatever. This works, so I'll do it." Trust me -- if a situation got you SO depressed that you want to die, you DON'T want to stay there indefinitely because a DRUG makes it livable. That's a lie.

If you feel seriously like you're going to kill yourself. I mean, you've visualized it -- you've maybe even bought the materials to do it, you've made the plans -- you maybe need to get on an antidepressant for a while -- but once you're out of that mode of thinking, get OFF it. Give your mind a jolt. Let it deal with reality for a while and see how that feels.

Reality SUCKS. It just does, and there's nothing anyone can do about that, but if you have SOME misery, SOME dissatisfaction, it actually works to help you fix things in your life.

For some weird and unexplainable reason, the current set of drugs out there can only alleviate the depressive symptoms, but they can't inspire you to new heights of ambition to raise you OUT of the depressive state, permanently. Only will power or whatever you call it, can do that. We haven't created a drug yet that can replace motivation. That means that until there is such a drug, DEPRESSION is the only true motivation there is.

I haven't been on anti-depressants for over a year. I stopped in fall of 2004. I haven't been suicidal yet. I sure hate life, but I haven't bought a blade yet. I am trying to fix things, struggling. It's difficult, but I am doing it.

I didn't do anything while taking Zoloft. I sort of drifted.

[judih]

fascinating discussion. i love the article - i saw the headline, firsty, at ha'aretz but didn't take the time to read it, so i thank you for posting it all here.

Thinking of Virginia Woolf, as i often do during ponderings on depression. She was brilliant mess, suffering, leaving us works of note, leading a life that only she could lead for as long as she felt she could lead it...

And people i know who battle a few times a year to adjust their meds just to stay above water - hospitalization, side effects, zombie or manic.

It's a bitch. And rapid cycle bi-polar is a scary business. Up and down so fast that an audience's head whirls.

Talking to, hanging out with people with rapid-cycle required thorough protection (whether it be full research prior to said hang-out time, or reiki bubble to guard from the fast and furious vibes emanating from the person cycling)

The book that Neri just translated into hebrew sounds worth reading.

Laurie, your experience is worth gold. That you have the guts you do and the energy to persevere without meds shows how much you value the brain, the body you've got.

Why you and not others is not for me to guess. M, on my kibbutz simply can't deal without meds. Even with meds he's barely dealing, but then again, he's got his path to lead, as we all do.

[firsty]

i agree in the notion that artists have higher rates of depression. the same sensitivity that leads to original insights and expressions can also lead to a sad understanding or interpretation of the life experience.

funny thing in the article about "prozac" ie prose vs poetry. heh.

often, the depression is just as or more debilitating than the antidepressants. taking meds can be the lesser of two evils. for me, i find i cant function at all during the really bad times without some sort of backup. i'd rather usually self medicate, and sometimes that works, too. but for me, taking an SSRI gives me a better baseline from which to operate.

consistent depression doesnt result in mad overnite bursts of creativity. it results in something like a zombie walking around, short temper, quick despondency.

i dont think meds are The Answer. there is no Answer. there are just different methods of getting here or there.

[hester_prynne]

I took prozac for about 7 years...have been off it for about the same.

The doctor that prescribed it to me, insisted that I only take it in tandem with weekly counseling/therapy. He said taking the med alone without counsel, would not render it's full affect. So, I went to counseling along with taking it, 2 years of one one one, and then 5 years of group therapy. I continued with the group therapy for two years after stopping the prozac. Group therapy was that good for me......

I feel like this treatment really helped me manage depression. Depression is only natural, and if you don't suffer from bouts of it, you may be rather tuned out/numbed, fooling yourself.

But the level of suffering doesn't have to overtake one. I have found much peace in riding out depression, giving it it's natural course to run through me, and oftentimes lead me to a stronger plateau of being.

I think the prozac was good in that it tempered the irrational fears which seemed to plague me full throttle to debilitated, and then to fully depressed. Once I stopped resisting those huge fears, I understood that depression was actually a healing process of a sort, and that it only got worse, if left unrealized, untended...

I don't know that prozac would have worked as well for me if I hadn't been in therapy along with it.

I guess that's my main point.

Interesting thread....
H

[firsty]

prozac is, now, considered fairly severe. many SSRIs are much more subtle while still effective.

i think everyone should go to therapy at least a few times. it's a valuable tool. also, everyone should alter his mind with drugs at least a few times. dont even get me started on honey roasted peanuts.