The depression epidemic - Part VIII (Personal experience)

I would like to think that what I have written to this point is persuasive on its own merits. Nothing is gained by thinking and writing about human distress in medical or quasi-medical terms and considerable pitfalls (dangers) follow from such an attitude. No psychiatrist, doctor, or scientist has ever made out a cogent case for such a conceptualisation of human pain. If it makes any sense whatsoever to talk about "mental illness" at all, then thinking, writing and talking this way surely constitute symptoms of mental illness or disorder. These are crazy ways of thinking about the human condition, totally out of touch with the reality of human pain and distress. I suggest that anyone who has actually experienced the "conditions" that these doctors, psychiatrists, scientists and government officials are attempting to describe knows, without any need for scientific research, that they are talking nonsense. Just listen to them discussing depression, for example. The fact that so many readers of our newspapers do not seem to see through the mystifications is a testament to the power of the industry to take over our very minds and literally to define our thought processes.

I believe that even an elementary philosophical analysis or examination of the science leads naturally to a recognition that what is being presented (the mecical model, for simplicity) is nonsense. I ought to call a spade a spade, however and say that in my own case, my recognition of the irrationality of this psychiatric discourse preceded any such analysis. Rather, the nonsensical nature of the entire medical model is seered into the very cells of my being, as a result of bitter (but also some incredibly empowering and life-affirming), first-hand experience. I lost whatever faith I might once have had in the psychiatric profession in my teens, during the 1960s. What follows is a summary of this experience.

Personal experience with depression and mental illness
As I wrote at http://www.consciouslivingseminars.com/andrews_story.html , I suffered from depression for 23 years, from the age of 16 to the age of 39 (1964 -1987). I also suffered from a condition which today would be diagnosed as a severe "anxiety disorder". I began to experience what psychiatrists (and most clinical psychologists) would call "symptoms", three months after my mother committed suicide on 4 November 1963 (My initial reaction to my mother's death was one of relief). It was mid-February 1964 and I had only been enrolled as a border at St Patrick's College Goulburn, in the NSW southern highlands, for two weeks. Although there appeared to me, at the time, to be no single event that set off the feelings of despair, loneliness and meaninglessness, these feelings followed (and, in retrospect, were clearly triggered by) my receiving news from Sydney that my girl friend (my first real girl friend) had decided to break off our relationship. My depression lasted 18 months and, from that time on, until my experiences with Self Transformation Seminars during 1984-1987, returned every year on at least one or two occasions. Winter always brought on a spell of depression. So, too, did each and every ending of each and every relationship, including those with each of my first two wives (I married three times). So, too, did every experience that I regarded as a failure, including failing at uni, giving a paper that failed to meet my expectations, failure as a husband, lover and father, as well as world events like the Vietnam war and conscription. Throughout this time I experienced intense, free floating anxiety and nervousness, feelings of emptiness, loneliness and lovelessness, self-contempt and worthlessness and, from time to time, fits of almost uncontrollable rage. I often felt alone in an empty, meaningless universe, in despair, utterly without hope.

In the CLS Journal for February 2003 I described the processes of, first, succumbing to depression and then attempting to understand and come to terms with it, as a process of awakening from a slumber:

"On waking up.
Becoming conscious – or waking up – can begin at any time. Alternatively, we can remain unconscious – or asleep, that is to say, normal. This is the safest bet of all. The security that comes from remaining in our normal, everyday hypnotic state is comforting. Safe, secure and comfortable. This is 'the unexamined life'. It may lack the 'highs', but it also lacks the lows. We give up passion, vitality and joy, but we gain peace, security, safety and comfort. My own awakening began relatively early, at the age of sixteen. Twenty-odd years of turmoil followed. Then, some extraordinary experiences, a brief period of magnificent illumination and, after that, the return of normal life, but with heightened awareness. Between the ages of 11 and 16, with my mother’s so-called '(mental) illness', I lived a nightmare existence. With her death in November, 1963 came peace – a calmness I had never known. Then, out of the blue, the sudden awareness of death and mortality. Depression. I was in my final year of high school, attending boarding school in a town in the NSW Southern Highlands. This was during 1964. Out of despair, I discovered the nineteenth century Romantic poets, especially Shelley and, through Shelley, I fell in love with philosophy (I also came to understand and appreciate my first Shakespearean play – Macbeth). Spurred on by a desperate need to discover the meaning of life – but especially to solve the riddle of God’s existence – I enrolled at uni the following year to study Philosophy. For the next three years (1965-1967) I pursued my questions about life, falling in love with existentialism, evolving a rather shallow understanding of Marxism and psychoanalysis and settling on the British empiricists, especially David Hume and the utilitarians, especially John Stuart Mill. And, it goes without saying, I loved the works of Rousseau. From a love of philosophy – after failing and dropping out of uni (end of 1967), marrying (1968) and then returning to my studies (1970) – I fell in love with Psychology (1971), pursuing this passion for the next 13 years".

I described these "next 13 years" in "Andrew's Story"
(See www.consciouslivingseminars.com/andrews_story.html ):

"When I enrolled in first year Psychology at Sydney University at the beginning of 1971, I was 23 years old, married for three years and expecting our first child. I had been suffering from severe depression since the age of 16, something I had managed to keep hidden from virtually everyone who knew me. The first episode had occurred three months after my mother had committed suicide, following a lengthy battle with depression, including several episodes of hospitalisation and ECT treatment, beginning when I was ten years old. I also suffered from anxiety and nervousness, as well as feelings of guilt, worthlessness and self-contempt. I turned to the study of Psychology to fill a desperate need to understand what had happened to me. Though I held out some hope of finding a way to alleviate my many symptoms, I basically considered myself incurable.

I had left university studies three years earlier (at the end of 1967), having failed my second year in Arts without even attempting my exams (after passing first year at my second attempt). So my feeling a failure was justified - though not the associated feeling of worthlessness. I had met my first wife, on a blind date, at the age of seventeen (in June 1965). She was sixteen. After a stormy and passionate three-year romance, we had married in early 1968, after I had abandoned my studies. I found that I was unable to hold a job for more than a couple of months, borrowed a huge amount of money from my father and bought a business (end of 1968) which ended in near bankruptcy. Hence my return to uni, feeling a total failure at life and determined to find out how I came to be such a hopeless case.

Four years of total commitment to my studies followed (1971-1974), leading, at last, to academic success. I graduated with First Class Honours in Psychology, winning several prizes along the way, including the Australian Psychological Society Prize for coming equal top in my Honours year. Along the way, I also completed a major in Philosophy (in 1971), coming second in the “Pass” course in Philosophy III. My first daughter was born in 1971, my second in 1973. I experienced the birth of each of my children, as well as their growth and development, as a miracle. They evoked in me a feeling of wonder about the magic of childhood and, indeed, of life itself. Now, feelings of elation came to be mixed with those of despair, depression and worthlessness on a regular basis.

By the time I graduated, in early 1975, my marriage had deteriorated to near-breaking point. An overseas trip confirmed the diagnosis, we separated (late 1975), moved together again and separated again (end of 1976), divorcing twelve months later (June 1977). A failed marriage did not enhance the way I felt about myself, academic success notwithstanding. I took up a position as Tutor in Psychology in the School of Behavioural Sciences, Macquarie University, at the beginning of 1976 and became a full-time postgraduate student the following year. Although I had gained an enormous amount of theoretical knowledge, including some intellectual understanding of my condition, my depressions continued, together with the other symptoms of anxiety, poor self-esteem and a variety of emotions that constantly threatened to overwhelm me".

The next nine years (beginning of 1976 to November 1984) were extremely important to my gradual understanding of myself and my world. I became an academic, tutoring in Psychology, then becoming a full-time postgraduate student, reading widely in the fields of psychology, psychiatry (and anti-psychiatry), education (especially progressive education), sociology and history. I became a single father, as well as a parent at Yinbilliko School, where I also became an involved participant (Yinbilliko became the subject of my research for my Phd as well). But my depressions continued unabated, as well as my anxiety, feelings of failure, self contempt and worthlessness and, in between relationships, feelings of intense loneliness and lovelessness, despair and hopelessness. None of this was to change until my involvement with Self Transformations Seminars.

Here is how I described what happened (in CLS Journal, Volume 3 Number 2):

"I described the process in my “story”. When I reached the end of my attempts to understand both myself and my world through this intellectual or rational process (1971-1984), I began my inner journey (November, 1984), a process, again, described in my “story”. This period of self-discovery (1984-1987) involved considerable pain. It also resulted in a period of joyful living. Then, back to the real world and, with that, more learning, more – and deeper – understanding. Unfortunately, more pain, too. But, unlike the pointless, needless, unnecessary suffering of the past, this was the pain that results from learning profound truths about the nature of life on our planet. I would say that this kind of pain is an essential component of growth on planet earth. And, throughout these past 15 years, moments of peace, moments of extraordinary connection and communion and occasional glimpses into the indescribable. I don’t know whether I would want to “prescribe” this for everyone, or even anyone. It is one way to awaken, to grow to consciousness. I’m quite sure there are other ways. But, so far as I am able to determine, they all involve some level of discomfort, some degree of dissatisfaction with our normal, everyday existence. And my experience – as well as what I have observed of others – leads me to believe that the idea that the process of waking up can be achieved “easily and joyfully”, without pain, is a dangerous illusion".

Before going on to describe the process of healing, I would like to write briefly about the context in which first, my mother, and then I, succumbed to the curse of depression.

The historical and personal context

Everyone in our extended family understood that my mother was "sick", without anyone ever specifying what that meant, other than the fact that she was constantly seeing "the doctor", taking a variety of pills, including sleeping pills to which she became addicted and, in 1958 or 1959, two years after we had arrived in Australia from Hungary, making some dozen odd attempts on her life. During the period 1959 to 1963 she received treatment for depression consisting of, among other things, Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT - or, as we called it, "shock treatment"). I have no idea whether she received antidepressants or not, although it is almost inconceivable that she would not have. Because these episodes began when I was 10 or 11 years old, my adolescence up to the age of 16 was a nightmare, filled with fear and anxiety (about when she would eventually succeed), recriminations and guilt - and, occasionally, rage, when I would finally snap after endless sessions with my mother trying to extract professions of love from me.

In my conscious, adult recollections, my mother had been "normal" until we arrived in Australia at the beginning of 1957 (when I was nine years old). In these recollections, I had had a normal, indeed, happy childhood, until we had left Hungary. In these recollections my mother had become "ill" only when we arrived in Sydney, as a reaction to starting a new life in a foreign country. It was only several years after she had died that I began to discover the truth, through visits to the country of my birth, talking to and, later, interviewing elderly relatives and others who had known us before we immigrated and through my own personal explorations in the context of my own healing (To be continued).