A ray of sunlight pokes through an overcast sky and darts onto a patch of asphalt. Behind this path of light stands a tall, brick schoolhouse watching over groups of playing children, joyously twirling around like umbrellas dancing in the wind. Around the corner walks a little boy. He approaches the sunlit patch of asphalt and sits down, leaning on the brick face of the school. He crosses his arms and rests them on his knees. He looks towards the twirling umbrellas, then onto the expanse of asphalt, which blankets most of the schoolyard. Tears gather in his eyes and he buries his face into the sleeves of his sweater.
Why does this little boy not smile? Why does he not run and play with all the other children? Sadly, I do not remember this little boy as well as I would like to. But I do remember his inner-struggle. That little boy is me.
Depression is a ghost that haunted me even at a young age. I have never understood why depression has been with me so long, and without avail can I give concrete answers as to why so many people are inflicted with it. I had loving and understanding parents. For the most part, my childhood was safe and uneventful. However, away from home I was fearful that no one could appreciate my value as a human being. I had been raised by parents who belonged to a different facet of our culture. They were artists and poets living in a small town that understood neither. I failed to pass the rites that gave me a social standing in the schoolyard culture. I never liked dodge-ball much.
As a result, I felt as if I had no place to turn. I was afraid of the outside world. I never gained a sense of purpose in my life. I questioned my own existence. Little boys should not worry about such things. They should be outside enjoying their lives. Shouldn’t they?
The American educational system can be quick to judge those who fail to fit the image of a “model” student. With a cold stare, it demeans and ignores those children who are alienated the most. It tends to treat inadequately those who feel they are most inadequate.
Now, here I am once again, sitting alone on my kitchen floor. But, this time there is no lighthearted ray of sunlight to give me warmth. I gaze upward and see my reflection on the side of my oven - two lost eyes staring into a void of neither past nor future. Holding tightly onto a kitchen knife, I slice into my wrist, desperate to hold onto another moment. A shiver runs through my spine, and blood begins to drip slowly down my arm. I can faintly feel something; I can acknowledge that I am still alive. Tears gather in my eyes. I am wasting away, sitting here. I have no purpose or direction. I feel as if any dreams I had have been ripped away from my heart. I must ask myself, Am I capable of living a life that I will not hate? I feel uncomfortable within my own skin. I have lost hope.
I stand up and turn to the sink tow ash off the stained knife. I set it carefully onto a dishtowel, as if to wipe away all the confusion and fear that have overtaken me. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I can simply forget about these feelings. I could go outdoors and take a short walk, or I could return to my parents? house to get help through one more day.
These thoughts will not leave my mind, however. I realize that if I am not alive, I will never have to face the things that make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I will have cured my ailments and set myself free! Unfortunately, the open wound on my wrist is woefully inadequate. With the sheer beauty of death in my mind, I take, one by one, enough aspirin to surely do myself in.
Suddenly, I am hit with the realization of what I have done. The beauty of death is now a desperate escape from a ubiquitous fear. Do I need to face this fear? The beauty that lies ahead in my life might be greater than that which lies beyond my escape from it. Will death set me free or lock me within a prison of eternal solitude?
My thoughts lash out. I must not be afraid of death! I value my petty life far too greatly. To embrace that which is mysterious and liberating will take a leap of faith. I have lived my entire life devoid of faith. I must have faith in taking my own life. I confidently walk over tyo the bottle of aspirin and swallow even more tablets.
But, perhaps both life and death are mysterious and complex. Might the escape from this constant pain lie in my future life? If only I could shut these thoughts out of my mind and drift off to sleep.
Inside me, a time bomb ticks away. I have to act quickly. I snap out of my flirtation with death and step outside. The world appears so still. I can not feel the cold touch of this February morning. I cautiously walk towards the office of the apartment manager. I know that she had lost a daughter in a plane crash. I also know that she has been struggling with depression ever since. I knock on the door and ask if I can come inside. I show her the open wound on my wrist. She gasps and is too shocked to be of much comfort. I tell her about the aspirin I swallowed, but she does not understand how deadly a dosage of thirty six pills is. She calls the police and then advises me to return to my room and forget about what I had done. I decide to drive myself to the hospital.
At the hospital, I go to see my group therapist. I tell him about what I have done. He immediately leads me across the street and into the emergency room. He sees how nervous and confused I am and tries to talk to me about the events leading up to this day. I do not know what to say; I only want to wake up from what seems like an ongoing nightmare. I tell him that I saw another depressive episode coming, although I did not expect to act upon my emotions.
The air begins to thaw and time itself passes faster and faster. A nurse immediately leads me into an operating room. A young, quick-paced doctor approaches me and apologizes before gliding a large plastic tube down my throat.
I gag repeatedly. My body wants so much to expel this intruder. Human hands can be very crude. I wonder if they were ever meant to enter the sacred spaces of the body and mind. Perhaps my destiny is to die by my own hand.
As the emergency room workers pump my stomach, the aspirin has already dissolved. To absorb the toxins disseminating through my body, they pour “charcoal”, a thick, black, bitter liquid down my esophagus.
My parents come to visit me soon. I find looking to my mother’s eyes especially difficult. Her own child is never meant to kill himself. This goes against her deepest instincts. Indeed, none of what I had gone through seems natural, none of it preordained. Was I really destined to die by my own hand?
The night comes quickly. I am taken to the intensive care unit. My body remains in shock from all that has happened. However, the sight of a heavy snowfall outside of my window calms me. Even on the darkest night of my soul, the world remains a beautiful place.
I am released the next day, but by law, I have to spend the next several days in a mental health ward. I am sent to the “lock-down” unit while accompanied by a security officer. This particular unit in the ward is meant for the “lower functioning” patients, those with severe schizophrenia or victims of a suicide attempt. I feel as if I am being taken to the wrong place.
The ward was not a new place for me. Months earlier, I had tried cutting my wrists with shards of broken glass. Because these were new experiences for me, I volunteered to spend a few days there. After great persuasion, I had also asgreed to begin a minimal trial of Zoloft. However, a few weeks into this trial. I began hearing a ubiquitous voice encouraging me to commit suicide. Later into the night, as I tried to fall asleep, I heard pleasant music emanating from my parents? garage, enticing me to start a car and poison myself with carbon monoxide. The next day, my psychiatrist advised me to spend a few days in the ward. I was also advised to take the “anti-psychotic” Risperdal, the “light tranquilizer” Klonopin, and the “anti-depressant” Prozac.
As the days pass during this latest visit to the ward, the dosages of my current medications have been increased substantially. I soon feel the effects of these increased dosages. Human hands are crude when they intrude into the sacred spaces of the body and mind. Technology has always been an extension of human desire and the medications inside of me were merely an extension of the psychiatrist’s hands. The “violent” and “irrational” urges within my soul have been contained. What can I expect? While on these medications, I feel inhibited from leading a normal life. I am forced to cast aside all emotions and cloak my very soul in an iron mask. Human emotions are infinitely complex, and if they could actually be reduced to the flow of a few chemicals in the brain, these medications would perform wonderful miracles.
When I had lost all hope for myself, ending my own life became the salvation that would take me to a better place. Death may be a constant in the universe, but what must we do to sustain life? This challenge differs greatly from our culture’s desire to halt and restrain the thoughts and feelings of those who view suicide as an escape. We must come to realize that we need preventive, not palliative measures in order to free ourselves from a psychological and emotional nightmare.
The philosophy behind “treatment” of mentally ill people still relies upon the containment of their “madness”. For hundreds of years, these people have been locked away in asylums and treated like criminals. To many, thoughts of self-destruction are socially deviant, a danger not only to the individual having such thoughts, but also to society as a whole.1
When do a psychiatrist’s personal beliefs or cultural values preclude the beliefs and values of their patients? When do they label dissenters from authority as “mad?” The theory of psychiatry is based upon the assumption that patients? voices have no value.2 Methods of containment are now packaged into the form of a pill and are prescribed as a “cure”.
Studies have shown that a deficiency in the brain-chemical “serotonin” (5-Hydroxytryptamine) brings about a greater propensity for depression and suicide.3 From these studies, psychopharmacologists believe that a major source of depression is a deficiency of serotonin. The most modern family of anti-depressants are called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). Pharmaceutical companies have boldly characterized depression as a mere “chemical imbalance.” However, further studies tell a different story about the efficacy of SSRIs.
Neurons, the cells of the brain, communicate with each other by releasing neurotransmitters, molecules that bond with receptor sites on other neurons. The messenger cell, which releases the neurotransmitter, metabolizes amino acids into serotonin. The serotonin is released into the synapse, the space between the messenger cell and the receptor cell. As the serotonin molecule bonds to the receptor sites, an electric charge is produced, conveying a message from one cell to another. The messenger cell contains organelles designed to bring the serotonin molecules, located in the synapse, back into its cell body. These organelles are called reuptake sites.
The SSRI’s molecular structure allows it to bond with these reuptake sites and prevent serotonin from returning to the cell that produced it. When the concentration of serotonin in the synapse is high, the receptor cell conveys chemical-electrical signals at a much higher rate because more serotonin molecules are able to bond to receptor sites. Psychopharmacologists believe that this increased excitation of neural receptors will improve an individual?s mood. However, further studies show the receiver cell interprets this increased excitation as abnormal and, in response, shuts down several of its receptor sites, thereby attempting to lower the overall excitation rate.4
The SSRI, by design, forces a high concentration of serotonin into the synapse. Contrary to marketing claims by the pharmacutical industry, this class of medication throws brain-chemistry out of balance. As a result, the receptor cells are dulled when the prescription is stopped. This increases the chance of relapsing into a more severe state of depression.
Many case studies of newly medicated patients show a radical shift in their behavior after they started taking the medication.5 In many instances, this shift in behavior has led to impulsive suicide or homicide. Emma Young, a columnist for New Scientist, explains in an interview as to why this may occur in some medicated patients.
Prozac causes a decrease in levels of a serotonin metabolite called 5-hydroxyindoleacetic acid (5HIAA). Low levels of 5HIAA have been associated with suicides, especially violent ones, as well as with other violent or impulsive behaviour.
Wagner’s team recorded the lowest levels of 5HIAA on the day after [their] mice received the Prozac.
“We found lower levels of 5HIAA in our mice long after they received [Prozac],” says Wagner. “That may help explain their increased aggression.” [Emma Young 2002]
5-Hydroxyindoleacetic acid is a necessary chemical for the creation of serotonin. If SSRIs prove to lower the levels of 5HIAA in the brain, they will also lower the rate of serotonin metabolism. This has shown to increase the likelihood of suicide, impulsiveness and violence.6
Data Presented by Dr Arif Kahn to the National Insitute of Health shows suicide rates for populations on popular forms of psychiatric medications. The study excluded patients with suicidal tendencies. The average number of suicides for the rest of the population is 11 per 100,000.
In the past, when the scientific community has become aware of how much damage these medications do, the pharmaceutical industry has actually embraced the data. It has done this to reinforce the marketing of a new generation of medications.7 Then, for the next decade, these new medications must be proven to be as dangerous as their predecessors. Unfortunately, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) relies heavily upon internal pharmaceutical company studies. By itself, the FDA is unable to rigorously and, without bias, test new medications coming to the market.
Wounded by a toxic culture, one’s heart can easily embrace a false miracle. Lives are risked as the pharmaceutical companies define the goals of our mental health system in the name of profit. Modern medications are yet another experiment in the tradition of social control.8
Psychotherapy is the popular alternative to, and complement for, modern psychiatry. Therapists generally help people identify the roots, development and means to cope with their crises. Ideally, they try to help people lead enjoyable lives. Therapy sessions give an individual the necessary knowledge to heal themselves. In contrast to the practice of psychiatry, psychotherapists generally listen to people’s needs. For many, however, therapy is a luxury they cannot afford.
Clinical psychotherapy reduces one’s crisis to the individual level. People can lead healthier lives through pathical changes of cognitive patterns, emotional balance and spiritual fulfillment. However, clinical psychotherapy commonly relies on diagnoses made by Psychiatrists and Psychologists.9 Unfortunately, therapy has the potential to become a platform for assimilation. In addition, with glaring audacity, clinical therapists fail to address crises on the social level.
Today, a new body of thought is forming among psychotherapists who are embracing a developmental perspective regarding emotional crises. Like clinical psychotherapists, when searching for the roots of crises, they look inward. However, they also look outward, to the social level. Not only do they see the importance of communication, but also of oppression, inequality, poverty, crime, and many other social ills. Thus, they see both pathical and ethical changes and essential to their vision of healing.10
The holistic approach searches outward among related facets of life and seeks to heal by bringing changes to the outer whole. This form of healing is an important step beyond the clinical model for treating depression. To the holistic healer, depression is a preventable impairment of health. An explanation of the holistic model will be broken into the sections: “Diet & Exercise”, “Community & Spirituality”, and “The Environment”.
Long after I was released from the hospital, I began to take control of my healing. With the help of a very compassionate doctor, I gradually reduced my medications. In the process, I began taking nutritional supplements. Serotonin is naturally metabolized throughout the body from the amino acid called “Tryptophan”. Most foods that are high in protein (chicken, fish, soy, and lentils) contain a high concentration of tryptophan. “Dopamine”, which also helps regulating the mood, is metabolized from the amino acid called “L-tyrosine”. In addition, a diet rich in folic acid, and omega fatty acids11 will lay the building blocks for a healthier mood. Even today, when I can feel depression creeping back into my life, nutrition is always essential to my well-being.
Exercise causes the release of pheromones into the brain. Studies show that pheromones, which are commonly associated with falling in love, have a profound effect on the mood. Although this claim is not supported by studies, exercise also increases metabolism. Increasing the metabolism of tryptophan into serotonin and l-tyrosine into dopamine and norepinephrine can bring emotional stability, increased awareness and motivation, and more energy to get through the day.
In times of personal need, a sense of community is important for bringing a sense of hope to the hopeless. The concept of community is slippery, however. People mention community as they speak about both global and local issues. In my view, a community has the following characteristics.
I gather inspiration from Pinker and Brown’s extension of Noam Chomsky’s theory of universal grammar. They claim the human brain has evolved towards a biological disposition to build the common elements of cultural models and social ties. If we have a biological disposition to form relationships with each other and construct frameworks of morality and ideology, we have the ability to form communities. We have this ability because we needed it at some point in our evolutionary history.12 When we are forced to isolate ourselves or are not accepted by the society into which we are born, depression becomes commonplace. A basic human need to form a community has been ignored. The mind reacts abnormally to an abnormal situation.
Might love and acceptance be human needs? The sense of belonging to a community has the power to remind people that they are loved and accepted by a compassionate group of people. We are social by our nature; without such a sense, what would we have to live for? And what about spiritual fulfillment? From my experience, spirituality seems to emerge from acceptance, love, hope, and the existence of a public sphere. I believe that spirituality has social roots, not ideological roots.
In our culture, does humankind view itself as a lonely species? Why do some people look to the skies for signs of our long lost companions in the universe. In the Christian tradition, why must we look up to the heavens to find God?
I find our search for the extraterrestrial strange, as the Earth is teeming with life. Through environmental destruction, however, our society is unraveling millions of years of evolution. Do we pretend we are the only conscious beings on Earth?
How does our society’s disconnection from the natural world affect our psychological and emotional health? How can certain people respond to the destruction of a forest as if they were wounded themselves, while others see it as a sign of progress? Ecopsychologists claim that reconnecting with the natural world does improve a person’s mood. Perhaps taking a short walk through the forest ought to be part of a holistic regimen.
Environmental toxins can also have a deep impact upon brain function. During the Gulf War of the early 90s, American troops used Uranium 238-tipped anti-tank bullets. Dr. Helen Calidcott, columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle, has explained the effect of these bullets:
When [the bullet] hits a tank at high speed it bursts into flames, producing tiny aerosolized particles less than 5 microns in diameter that are easily inhalable into the terminal air passages of the lung. Second, it is a potent radioactive carcinogen, emitting a relatively heavy alpha particle composed of 2 protons and 2 neutrons. The American military’s own studies prior to Desert Storm warned that aerosol uranium exposure under battlefield conditions could lead to cancers of the lung and bone, kidney damage, non-malignant lung disease, neurocognitive disorders, chromosomal damage and birth defects. [Caldicott 2002]
In North America, mercury is quite prevalent in the environment. Prolonged exposure, especially for the developing fetus, causes severe brain damage.
Ingested methylmercury is almost completely absorbed into the blood and distributed to all tissues (including the brain); it also readily passes through the placenta to the fetus and the fetal brain. The developing fetus is considered the most sensitive to the effects of mercury; therefore, women of childbearing age are the population of greatest concern. Children born of women exposed to relatively high levels of methylmercury during pregnancy have exhibited a variety of developmental neurological abnormalities, including delayed onset of walking and talking, cerebral palsy, and reduced neurological test scores. [Environmental Protection Agency 2002]
Ironically, in the late eighteenth century, “mad doctors” injected mercury into their patients bloodstreams, forcing them to vomit repeatedly. The doctors believed that this restored a patient?s ability to concentrate, purging their “madness”.13
If psychiatric medications might have long-term effects upon brain function, uncontrolled environmental toxins are sure to have an enormous impact upon our emotional and psychological health. Unfortunately, few steps have been taken to curb the release of such toxins, especially in nations that rely on heavily polluting industries to make way in the global economy. This cycle of policy must be reversed.
After I stopped taking the medications, I attended one last group therapy session. I wanted to assure the therapists that I was recovering. Inside of me, however, a quiet rage stirred. I no longer believed in the psychiatric system. The other patients - many of whom I greatly respected - were caught in the cycle of medication. This was nearly too much to bear. I remember one older woman telling the doctors that her medications simply did not work. She either became ill or was driven deeper into depression. If one class of medications did not seem to work, the doctors tried another. This had gone on for years. Finally, the doctors were running out of medications to prescribe for her.
She asked, “What will I do if these last pills do not work?”
“Just hang in there,” replied the same therapist who had led me into the emergency room on that fateful February day. He did not know what to tell her.
Theories of various mental illnesses have come and gone over the years. However, with all the treatments available, many people continue to suffer from chronic depression. The doctors who have been given the responsibility of addressing depression have been given a monumental responsibility. You cannot give someone a pill and ask him or her to change the world. Every problem would soon look like a clinical diagnosis.
The holistic model attempts to meet basic human needs, such as nutrition and exercise, community and spirituality, and a healthy environment. The principals embodied in this model must not be seen as a collection of tips for healthy living. Rather, these principals must become the basis for a social-ecological vision of radical change. We will begin to prevent depression when we live in a society that listens to human needs.
For several thousand years, indigenous societies attempted to address basic human needs. Members of these societies had a sense of community, ecological consciousness, and good nutrition. Thus, in many of these cultures, suicide was unheard of. In our own struggle to create a better world, we must be willing to open our minds to the most unlikely places.
Traditional tribal societies differed greatly from one another. A few of these societies practiced slavery and many glorified the warrior. Other societies, however, were pacific, isolated from territorial skirmishes. Many cultures were patrocentric, some were outright patriarchal, while others were matrocentric. Some tribes practiced agriculture while others relied entirely on hunting and gathering.
Apart from these differences, these societies shared many characteristics: they were religious, economic life was communal, society was mostly reflective of the peoples will, tribal elders were educators and leaders, and ceremony greatly influenced daily life.14
The Anishinabe are one of the largest American Indian tribes in North America. They originated near the mouth of the St. Lawrence River on the eastern coast of the United States. They have since immigrated to the shores of Lake Superior, spanning across Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan and Ontario. I had the honor of learning a little about the Anishinabe culture. Over the past two years, I have come to know a few Anishinabe professors from Duluth, Minnesota.
In traditional Anishinabe society, social roles were divided among clans. Clans were established for the roles of political leader, spiritual leader, healer, intellectual, warrior, and pacifist. Each clan was totemic, meaning that values were symbolized by an animal. Through the totems, the clans responsibilities were enacted in ceremonies. Each clan cooperated with each other to establish political balance and a strong sense of community. The society strove to meet human needs and, as a result, brought hope and well-being to the Anishinabe people.15
For the past three hundred year, however, the Anishinabe have lived under brutal oppression by the French, Dutch, English, and Americans. Linda Cleary and Thomas Peacock believe that, over time, their people have internalized their oppression. Tribal members are caught in a vicious cycle of oppression and internalization. Cleary and Peacock refer to this internalized oppression as “sub-oppression”.
The self-destructive nature of this suboppressive behavior has an impact on our need for harmony and balance, which is an integral characteristic of the philosophy of many American Indian tribes. The lack of balance in an individual can grow to adversely affect families, communities and whole tribes. For example, if an individual carries the burden of anger in them, that anger will affect the other parts of their being; their spiritual well-being and their physical health may eventually be impaired. Anger may affect their relationships with others, including family members, and in doing so will adversely affect the harmony and balance of the family. It may eventually affect their relationships with others at school or work or may cause groups in a tribe to be in friction with one another, and upset the harmony of the community’s institutions. Unresolved anger is one of the most self-destructive elements of the suboppressor. [Cleary and Peacock 1998: 64]
As the Anishinabe continue to struggle for a greater degree of self-determination, suicide rates on the reservations have risen to towering heights. Young men and women now look to the outside world with fear. They feel trapped within their reservations. Internalized oppression has taken away their hope. When such hope is lost, how can life be sustained?
This cycle can be broken when the Anishinabe once again see their own intrinsic value and vast traditional wisdom. The future does look bright for the Anishinabe. Traditional values are finally being taught in schools. Slowly, hope will return.
Death is indeed a constant in the universe. In my personal struggle, however, I now aspire to live and to help others realize the beauty of life. The icy splinters of death continue to tease, only to awaken me. However, the forces, which brought me here, lie beyond my grasp. I live in a society fallen ill and bent upon a path which may lead to catastrophe. The future remains unknown.
The political theorist Murray Bookchin describes the emergence of a “second nature”, the enslavement of our society into a life of ecological devastation and social isolation. Second nature has gone astray from “first nature”, the entelechy of humankind, and its relationship to the Earth. Our entelechy is realized when we meet our needs in full. Our needs define our relationship with the world and the objective basis of our ethics. Harmonizing first and second nature, Bookchin believes, will unleash the creative potential of our society to form self-conscious, cooperative, and ecological societies.16
Preventing occurrences of depression must become a radical initiative. Humanity’s hunger to fill its basic needs will only cry louder if we do not address the underlying developmental patterns leading to the creation of our toxic society. We must abolish the social and economic institutions that lead to greater isolation, inequality, authoritarianism, and ecological devastation. We must be conscious of our entelechy.
Our society and Anishinabe society share a common struggle with rising rates of depression. We could teach each other a great deal. Perhaps in the future, our two cultures will cross paths. Until we can heal society, however, our own path leading to a better world will be a mysterious one.
Published: 5 years, 11 months ago
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