The Will to Destruction

I haven't always (or even usually) been depressed, but it has been a continuing theme in my life. Being depressed is really awful (duh, the definition of depression is basically feeling terrible) but one of the strange things about it is how seductive depression can be.

Often when I'm depressed, I find myself doing things which I know will make things worse: and the very reason I do them is because they will make it worse. The depression becomes a kind of living being, ensuring its own survival by advising and tempting me into various destructive and self-destructive actions (like starting fights with B for no reason, or shirking my responsibilities). Although I know what I should do in order to feel better, it does not appeal to me. I would much rather dig myself deeper into the pit of despair, and doing the opposite takes an immense amount of willpower.

There is something very pleasurable in destruction, even if what you are destroying is yourself. It must be an innate human tendency, because it's one of the first things young children do, as soon as they are mobile in fact. And once you have begun the destructive process, it seems not just easier but fated to continue (the whole "Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb" argument).

Here's Dostoevsky's Underground Man on the subject (if you haven't read Notes from Underground, you should: it's both short and amazing):

I got to the point of feeling a sort of secret abnormal, despicable enjoyment in returning home to my corner on some disgusting Petersburg night, acutely conscious that that day I had committed a loathsome action again, that what was done could never be undone, and secretly, inwardly gnawing, gnawing at myself for it, tearing and consuming myself till at last the bitterness turned into a sort of shameful accursed sweetness, and at last—into positive real enjoyment! Yes, into enjoyment, into enjoyment! I insist upon that. I have spoken of this because I keep wanting to know for a fact whether other people feel such enjoyment? I will explain; the enjoyment was just from the too intense consciousness of one’s own degradation; it was from feeling oneself that one had reached the last barrier, that it was horrible, but that it could not be otherwise; that there was no escape for you; that you never could become a different man; that even if time and faith were still left you to change into something different you would most likely not wish to change; or if you did wish to, even then you would do nothing; because perhaps in reality there was nothing for you to change into. 

I think this sort of thought process is behind most mental disorders (addiction, eating disorders, anxiety, etc). That's why punitive approaches never work (boot camp for teens, "shaking you out of it", jail time, shaming, aversion techniques): they are just playing into the already acute sense of failure and degradation (and indeed might be just what sufferers are trying to obtain).

The only way out is love and forgiveness, of oneself and of others.

R Gets a Haircut

R is a little dubious

R's hair was starting to get really long, which meant that I had to brush/comb it extensively every day. She hated this SO much, and would inevitably howl with rage or cry in pain (I tried every gentle technique possible, but apparently her scalp is very sensitive? or more likely, just the idea of possible pain was enough to upset her). It was no fun for either of us, so I decided the time had come for her first hair cut.

Dora haze

B has always hated haircuts (at one childhood visit he punched the barber hard in the stomach, enough to wind him), and I worried R might have inherited the tendency. So I took her to the children's specialty salon (haircuts include a balloon, candy and viewing of Dora the Explorer) even though it was kind of pricey at $18 per cut (which seems like a lot for a two-year-old). It was surprisingly emotional for me (because usually I am completely unsentimental). It seemed like the official end of baby R: now she's a big girl, with haircuts and everything.

Almost done!

She cooperated beautifully so I bought her a toy as a reward. (She selected a wedding toy, with bride, groom, priest and photographer: we got it because it's what she wanted but it gave me a pang for being so stereotypical and regressive. Guess I will have to get over myself.) Then we went out for brunch: R got French toast.

New hair!

 In other news, I am feeling considerably better and much more able to cope with life. As with the other times I've started medication after being depressed, my main reaction is, "Why didn't I do this earlier???" For which there is no good answer, except that depressed people are not known for their critical thinking skills or logical thinking patterns.

Elliequent Gives Awful Parenting Advice

I read Elliequent's blog (she is a skilled and rather lyrical writer, so I enjoy reading the blog even though she has some serious psychological issues). She is "childfree" (aka someone with no children who's self-righteous about it), which in itself doesn't bother me at all. It's great that people know what they want (no kids) and are willing to pursue it despite societal judgment and expectations. Good for them!

But her post about how she is entitled to give other people (strangers) parenting advice is truly horrible. It sort of encapsulates all the worst stereotypes about non-parents: their ignorance of children and everything pertaining to them, their self-righteous "I could do it better" attitude (thus the joke "I was a great parent before I had kids"), their idea that they are so helpful and considerate to parents (hahahahaha)...Just to complete the stereotype, she often refers to her dog as her child.

Actually, though, the post is a good learning opportunity. I tend to be judgmental and opinionated myself, with strongly held beliefs on all sorts of topics, including those about which I know almost nothing. This is a reminder of how obnoxious such an approach is, and how important it is for me to continue to strive for empathy, tolerance and understanding when making statements (or even thinking about issues). It doesn't come easily or naturally to me, but it is essential.

Speaking of which: I need to cultivate such an attitude about Ellie herself (after all, she was expressing concern about children: a nice impulse in essence even if her execution was bad). I was so irritated by the post that after I read it I wrote her a long, critical email (she doesn't allow comments). This was probably a really bad idea (certainly not falling under the category of "What Would a Loving Empathetic Person Do?") and I am now rather regretting it. So maybe the post was also a good chance for me to think about improving my impulse control and emotional reactivity. Food for thought: I guess I owe Ellie thanks after all!

Drugging Myself

Another blogging hiatus, thanks to my continuing depression. Whenever I am depressed, I tend to withdraw from all activity (especially of the social sort) in favor of laying around thinking about death, aimlessly skimming stupid articles, and playing game after game of Memory. I finally had to bite the bullet and go on Zoloft. 

I am hugely in favor of psychotropic drugs: in fact, I often wonder if the entire population shouldn't take them in one form or another (better living through chemistry! can't wait for the pill revolution). Certainly I would have advised anyone else in my situation to get on them ASAP. 

Despite my theories, I am not consistent and was extremely reluctant to get medicated. It seemed like a personal failure somehow (I felt unreasonably pleased with myself for being drug-free). But in the end, I was not improving and my depression was negatively impacting my family, and B in particular (I was pretty successful in putting on a front for R: but this meant all the accumulated drama got dumped on B as soon as she was sleeping). So off I went to the psychiatrist (of which there are only about 20 in the entire country of Singapore, the culture here is strongly biased against all forms of mental health treatment).

I started a week ago and am now starting to feel considerably better. I expect in a few more weeks I will be almost back to normal (historically, SSRIs have always been quite effective for me).

Books Read: March

March 7th: Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, A Man Who Would Cure the World, Tracy Kidder. I had mixed feelings about this biography. It's well written, the subject is a fascinating character and it was most illuminating about conditions in Haiti and third world medical care generally speaking (a topic about which I knew nothing). On the other hand, it has a strongly hagiographic tone (always a mistake in biographies) and I strongly disagree with certain assumptions of Farmer and indeed the book in general. Just as a book, though, it's a great read. Grade: A-.

March 9th: Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves, Naomi Aldort. Another parenting book advocating "gentle parenting" (basically not using any punishments whatsoever in favor of trying to understand your child's underlying motivations). I like the premise but it's much better described by other authors. Aldort also makes (to my mind) some rather strange recommendations, like never taking your kid on errands because it's too oppressive for them. Finally, she has no relevant education, training or other qualifications, and makes her recommendation based solely on her personal opinion (rather than research or facts), yet the tone of the book implies she has considerable expertise and knowledge (many copies of the book, including mine, include a PhD by her name even though she doesn't have one). This is misleading. Grade: D.

March 16th: Salt: A World History, Mark Kurlansky. A history of salt: how it was procured, manufactured, processed, and used, in multiple eras and countries (with a particular focus on Imperial China and early modern Europe). Crammed full of interesting facts and obviously exhaustively researched, it is rather repetitive and a few chapters could probably have been cut without much loss. It also has no real organization or trajectory. It's more like a short encyclopedia than a book. Grade: B.

March 16th: Sweet Tooth, Ian McEwan. A novel about a young woman's induction into the British Secret Service during the early 1970s. Appealing protagonist, authentic-seeming setting, continuously-evolving plot that never bores or becomes predictable. A bit too self-consciously literary for my taste, though (I hate it when authors are more concerned with their wordsmithing than telling a story). Plus the nods to the author's literary friends are distracting and irritating. Grade: B-.

March 19th: The Return from Troy, Lindsay Clarke. Retelling of the Odyssey from a modern perspective. This means lots of focus on the characters' inner psychology, no gods (their existence is assumed by the characters but not by the author and we never meet any), and non-supernatural explanations for all events (Odysseus' descent to the underworld is a result of drugs, illusion and sensory deprivation). I love the Odyssey--it is one of my favorite books of all time--so I enjoyed it. But honestly it is just not that good. Read the Odyssey instead: it's much better written and far more profound. Grade: C.

March 29th: Outliers: The Story of Success, Malcolm Gladwell. This is a very slick book: well written, fast paced, and lending itself to compulsive reading (I had a hard time putting it down once I'd started). Lots of interesting tidbits in there (especially about Chris Langan and the author's ancestral land of Jamaica). Sadly, Gladwell's critical thinking skills are not very good and he makes many unwarranted assumptions based on rather flimsy evidence, particularly in the section on how rice growing makes people good at math (it is chock-full of errors on Chinese history: for instance, wheat is the main crop in the North, where Chinese civilization evolved). Grade: C-.

R Has an Imagination

It's so much fun to watch R's developing imagination. Today she had a long, unprompted telephone conversation with Ami (who was at home) while we were on our way home (It went something like "Hello, is Ami there? This is R and Mommy. We are coming home now. Are you at home? How is it?" but with much, much worse grammar and pronunciation.) Plus all the games with her various "families" (her little toy rabbits, her stuffed animals, even her animal crackers).

Here's R feeding Baby at breakfast. She regularly asked her questions too, like if she wanted more food or some water. I was very stoic, as I didn't want to mess up her game, but inside I was dying. So amusing.

Visiting West Coast Park

I like this outfit for the darling shorts: don't
buy it though, the shirt requires ironing. I
don't know what the makers were thinking.

R has a pretty consistent schedule. When she was younger, this was because otherwise she would get grumpy if she didn't eat and sleep in a certain routine. Nowadays, it's because it makes my life easier: once she graduated into 'toddler' status it became imperative to keep her as busy as possible (to prevent tantrums, grumpiness and destruction of the house).

She goes to school every morning Monday-Friday, then returns home for lunch and a nap. But that leaves every afternoon to be filled (3:30 or 4 until 6/6:30: we eat at 7 and bedtime is at 8). Our weekly Monday afternoon activity is visiting the nearby park to participate in a playgroup there.

It's quite casual, just a bunch of toddlers chilling together. I like it partly because everyone brings toys (R much prefers other people's toys, for the novelty factor) and partly because it forces me to visit the park regularly (my natural inclination being to avoid sun, heat and dirt by staying indoors). I think the outdoors is good for children.

R loves putting things into buckets

Toddlers are so funny when they play side-by-side, apparently ignoring each other, but actually copying activities

Just look at all those toys

R is excited by the noise of the flying kites (on the field behind her)

On another note, I am continually amazed by the great photos other bloggers take of their children. R hates posing. Here's her typical reaction to being asked to do so: grumpiness because she wants to use the camera herself, or at least look at herself on the preview screen.

Nice sullen look going, R

The only way to take her photo is by really quickly calling out her name or making a weird noise. But then you get expressions like this...

 

Most of my photos of R feature the blurry back of her head as she runs off, intent on her latest project. Sorry R, I promise you were totally cute at 2 even if there's no evidence.