Hello, and welcome to another edition of me ranting about what’s wrong with the world.
I went out for a drink with a very close male friend of mine today, we’ll call him “Spike,” and we got onto the topic of depression.
His chief complaint seemed to be that far too many doctors like to play a game of name with their patients when they come in complaining of depression. They’ll take the ten minutes that they have for your annual visit, and say “you have a ____ disorder,” and then they write you some prescription for the rest of your life. I’ve been hearing the same sorts of things in the news lately – that 1 in 5 kids are clinically diagnosed with depression. Doesn’t that seem a little odd? And of course, guess who benefits from their misfortune? The pharmaceutical companies.
A number of skeptical scientists have done their own studies and found that placebos seem to have the exact same effect on depression as prescription drugs, but the really interesting thing is that they’ve found that these so-called prescription drugs are placebos. I remember shouting at my radio when I heard this, as though someone were listening, “duh!”
Parents, why do you listen to doctors when they tell you your child is clinically depressed? Do you know how often they do that? It blows my mind when parents put their own child through these ordeals, in the name of combating a “chemical imbalance in the brain.” Wake up, people! The human body is basically a great big sack of chemicals. Everytime there’s anything wrong with you, technically, it’s a chemical imbalance. That doesn’t mean you should stir more chemicals in. You’re just adding a chemical addiction to their already difficult life. I’ve known so many people, particularly females, whose young lives have been distorted and somewhat ruined by iatrogenic chemicals.
You want some real cures for depression? Get more sleep! Eat better, and/or when you’re hungry. Hunger and sleep deprivation make people unhappy. Get some exercise! As they say, a healthy mind needs a healthy body.
Maybe part of the problem is that in the old days… you remember the old days, right? When we rubbed sticks together to create fire and when instead of courting our woman and buying them wedding rings we were tying them to trees so they couldn’t run away? In the old days, we were far too cold or hungry to be depressed. I can just picture it.
“I’m depressed, Madge. I feel like I’m losing touch with my inner child. And for a wife, you don’t hug me enough.”
“God dammit, Frank! Go kill something! The kids are starving! And untie me from this goddam tree! We have six kids, I’m clearly not going anywhere!”
And Spike was complaining about his own winter depression. Personally, I don’t get depressed about winter. Here’s my trick. I just take a moment to fantasize about how nice it’s going to be when I move away from this frosty hell-hole, and it puts a big smile on my face. And if that doesn’t work, I think about two chicks making out. Either way, it doesn’t take very long for me to restore my content, though somewhat offensive demeanor. Spike went on about how he acknowledged that he knew he wasn’t doing anything to battle his depression; he isn’t exercising, and he isn’t eating right. And now he finds himself dwelling in the world of regret, and this is where I get to the title of today’s entry.
He talked about how he’s lonely and wants some companionship. He brooded about his ex-girlfriend, and how she left him because he didn’t have any ambition, and smoked weed all the time. Of course, he still has no direction in his life, and he still smokes weed all the time, so if he gets a girlfriend, he can foresee the same pattern repeating itself. Of course, it doesn’t help that his ex-girlfriend is being nailed by his roommate now for some strange reason. Honestly, I don’t think she’s particularly attractive, nor is she terribly bright, and I’ve no idea what he ever saw in her anyway. And I mean, come on. It’s not like her life went anywhere either.
And I feel sorry for the poor bugger, I really do, because the best sex Spike ever had, was with my ugliest girlfriend. That’s why I don’t even hold that particular betrayal against him. He’s got an ego made of glass. And this ugliest, (though I wouldn’t say she’s ugly), cheating girlfriend of whom I speak, she broke up with me citing the exact same reason Spike’s ex gave him. She claimed she need someone who was going somewhere in life. I mentioned none of this to Spike, of course, but he got me thinking, and on the way home, it occurred to me, this business of people dumping “losers” seems to happen an awful lot.
Funny story: The father of one of my female friends dumped a girl once because he though she was a “loser.” Turns out she was Shania Twain.
So, the question is, what is with this obsession with “going places” in life? Obviously they don’t mean literal places, because that isn’t particularly hard to do. I’ve been to
So, what is the point? Is it pointless careerism? Because that’s what our world seems to be oversaturated with. Surely you’ve seen all the banners advertising “be the top 40 under 40” or some such careerist non-sense. No wonder everyone’s depressed! Everybody’s obsessed with being on the right career track to be CEO. You know how many people get to be CEO, or a big music star, or the next dot com billionaire? A hell of a lot fewer than there are people working at McDonald’s, or as secretaries, warehouse workers, or any other nameless dead-end job that offers no future, so the pressure of succeeding in life continues to haunt them, even as they toil their asses off full-time. These are full-time workers who all went to university, hoping somehow that their educations would pay for themselves, and get them somewhere in life. Then they become insurance adjusters.
The words that came to mind while walking home, and running all of this through my head was, “not good enough.” My ex broke up with me because I’m not good enough. Parents and teachers tell their children they are not good enough. Bosses tell their employees they are not working hard enough. Woman hate their bodies because they don’t feel thin enough, or pretty enough. Mediocrity is not to be tolerated. Average is not good enough. Whoever first decided we should all live in fear of being a regular joe obviously didn’t excel at math. Most people are going to be average. That’s just a truism. So what kind of sadomasochistic society is this that normal people are actually supposed to be disappointed in themselves?
Wake up, people! Depression doesn’t come from a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s coming from in imbalance in society.