By Senad
Disclaimer: Do you suffer from depression or suicidal thoughts? Please do not hesitate to approach a fellow KB-member that you trust or call the suicide prevention hotline → 0800-0113 (+31800-0113; for internationals)
Take care of yourself, for you are loved. At least by one person in this world.
On a restless night after an evening that I actually really enjoyed, I suddenly feel a huge amount of weight that I cannot really put into words. I feel uncalm, in need of a kindly ear around that is willing to listen as a sudden feeling of unsafety permeates my student room. Above all other things, I am yearning for answers. What is there to life? Is it all really worth the hassle? Will I ever attain true internal tranquillity? Will I ever be able to function in a well-paying job? Are my current life decisions going to yield any sort of happiness? Am I worthy of love? Is my paranoia a pest manufactured by my brain, creating irrational fears that rob me of sleep?
It seems like the big black dog in the room is back after months of me doing quite well. I should have anticipated it sooner or later.
To make sense of all these conflicting feelings, I decided to do that which usually helps my brain become empty in the healthy sense. I write about depression! However, not in a glorifying way. Not necessarily phony uplifting self-help shit either. Rather, I choose to philosophise about it and, if possible, make sense of it. Follow me on this brief written journey of philosophising about the big black dog in the room.
When did we start to get depressed?
This question could find a plethora of answers. However, I do not believe that the title of this paragraph sends your thoughts in the right direction. By “we”, I do not mean to inquire into our (me and the reader’s) personal history of depression. Let us not think too locally just yet and continue reflection on a global and historical level – really, when did humanity first encounter depression the way we know it now?
One could answer this lazily and say that depression – an inert and energyless mental state in which a pointlessness of life is alleged to be the case – has always been part and parcel of the bizarre ordeal that is life.
However, think about the 19th century for just a brief second. Immanuel Kant had just finished his life project of basically turning traditional metaphysics (theology and the belief in god) into a domain resembling a scorched Earth. Kant’s philosophy of critical reason, asserting that there is nothing reasonable about claiming knowledge on the basis of religion, was the actual death blow to a belief in a higher power watching over us. After almost a hundred years in which Karl Marx was being a hardcore materialist and Nietzsche eventually pronounced God dead, there was nothing left to believe in in terms of grand theories. Existentialism and absurdism emerged, philosophies according to which the search for meaning is futile and there is no higher goal. All that we can do is exist and not for once assume that we are. We cannot reduce ourselves to a simple essence or identity. Rather, we can recognise the absurd circumstances and the constant change.
Existentialists
Simon de Beauvoir, just like Sartre, believed that the passion of humanity is rather useless, that there is nothing to really fight. Even worse, do not even assume that you, as a person, are. What are you? A human? A student? A lazy git? A passionate person? A brave person? A scared person? Aren’t we all of those things at some point in our lives?
We are. If there is anything that humanity and life really consist of, it must be ambiguity and confusion. On one occasion, one could be the hero that saves a baby out of a burning house, whereas on another day, the same bravery might not show when a chihuahua dog decides to treat us with utmost hostility on the sidewalk. The motive of bravery eventually proves inconsistent, as do most other virtues or characteristics one purports to have.
However, according to Beauvoir, one might harness a form of existential power by accepting ambiguity. If we accept that all of us, including the events that take place in our lives, have something ambiguous to them that cannot ever have a total essence to define them by, we will live in freedom. Freedom from what?
Normative ideals that society forces upon us. Expectations that still dictate our every move. The idea that one must hurry to make sense of it all. If you really want to be happy, refrain from that.
Albert Camus, a fellow existentialist, talked less explicitly about accepting ambiguity. Rather, he called it “facing the absurd”. Just as De Beauvoir, Camus sees no higher calling, a big all-explaining theory or essence in life. God is no longer there to run the Earthly business from his start-up office in heaven, which is why we are now left to our own devices. According to Albert Camus, there are many ways to deal with the absurd.
Number one – one takes one’s own life. That way, any perceived pain or meaninglessness would vanish in an instant. However, if one decides to kick the bucket, then one will certainly miss out on the better alternative. This alternative will be more demanding in terms of effort, but certainly more fulfilling in terms of existence. After all, existing does not combine all too well with being dead. Right?
Camus would advise us to lead our lives as though they were a rebellion. With no God to watch over us and no big theory providing us with consistent answers for life’s big questions, the notion of essence has vanished. Nobody is. Nothing and no one can be reduced to an identity. The only way to really know that you live, is (for starters) to say “Yes” to life and subsequently face the abyss. So what, I am both brave and a coward sometimes? So what, my father whipped the shit out of me whilst simultaneously claiming he loves me as a father? There is so much bullshit, but that is inevitable. Courage does not mean the absence of fear, but the conquest of fear. If the abyss stares at you, stare right back with your most horny and insane gaze. There is no better way to exist than to persist throughout the absurdities that life bombards you with.
It is getting rather late and I should at least try to sleep. I would have loved to write more about this topic, however, I also realise that it is an article that should be read by people. It came out longer than expected, something I hope does not mess with your reading pleasure.
That being said – don’t give up. Drink water. Seek help. Love in order to surely be loved.