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This week at the nail salon I was reading a Time article on the science of happiness, how they've been studying it for a few years now, how they quantify and measure it, and how its definition has changed from simply being a lack of depression. It was very interesting. Americans tend to be happier than the rest of the world--they both rate their happiness higher, and are happier by quantifiable measures. One of the interviewed researchers originally came from Russia at the age of 10 where she couldn't get over all these smiling faces.
I think I'm a much happier person than I used to be--I think I may be taking on more of that aspect of my dad's personality, and shedding some of my mother's depression. My dad is generally a happy person, an optimist, and certainly I get much of my humor from him. Or maybe I'm coming into my sign (Sagittarians are generally happy) or maybe I've consciously developed better coping mechanisms, because I really hate being depressed. For several years now when I've felt depression coming on, I've felt as though it was foreign to me, chemical, coming from outside--that wasn't me. But I used to feel very much as though depression was me--I called it my Northern European side. Even then, though, once I became more aware of it (in my 20s), I did consciously seek out coping mechanisms like bright colors, and light. I could also see what depression did to my family--I didn't want to be like my grandmother, who could be very negative indeed. And of course my grandfather killed himself. I do feel you can consciously choose a more positive approach--you're faced with an unsolvable problem, what are you going to do? Are you going to let it destroy you or are you going to make your peace with it and not be defeated? Or, if you do suffer from debilitating depression, are you going to take medication to try to manage it, or are you going to choose depression? And I'm not talking about smiley-happy-shiny all the time; I understand the therapeutic necessity of a good vent. I'm talking about choosing not to be defeated, because that always turns into anger (and who wants to be around a constantly angry person?) or depression (which is really anger turned inward).
And depression isn't romantic. There are very few Van Goghs and Virginia Woolfs--most depressives are never able to reach those heights. As much as I want to plumb the crevices of the human condition*, I don't want to cut off my ear to do so.
*This phrase always makes me think of the exchange from one of my favorite movies, Hollywood Boulevard:
Mary [she's been trying to convince the director to kill off the other female characters after the first reel, ostensibly to make the film better, really to enhance her part. The director is not really convinced]: Think of the heartbreak, the loneliness...Eric, that's the human condition!
Eric [reprovingly]: This is not a film about the human condition, Mary. This is a film about tits and ass.
I think I'm a much happier person than I used to be--I think I may be taking on more of that aspect of my dad's personality, and shedding some of my mother's depression. My dad is generally a happy person, an optimist, and certainly I get much of my humor from him. Or maybe I'm coming into my sign (Sagittarians are generally happy) or maybe I've consciously developed better coping mechanisms, because I really hate being depressed. For several years now when I've felt depression coming on, I've felt as though it was foreign to me, chemical, coming from outside--that wasn't me. But I used to feel very much as though depression was me--I called it my Northern European side. Even then, though, once I became more aware of it (in my 20s), I did consciously seek out coping mechanisms like bright colors, and light. I could also see what depression did to my family--I didn't want to be like my grandmother, who could be very negative indeed. And of course my grandfather killed himself. I do feel you can consciously choose a more positive approach--you're faced with an unsolvable problem, what are you going to do? Are you going to let it destroy you or are you going to make your peace with it and not be defeated? Or, if you do suffer from debilitating depression, are you going to take medication to try to manage it, or are you going to choose depression? And I'm not talking about smiley-happy-shiny all the time; I understand the therapeutic necessity of a good vent. I'm talking about choosing not to be defeated, because that always turns into anger (and who wants to be around a constantly angry person?) or depression (which is really anger turned inward).
And depression isn't romantic. There are very few Van Goghs and Virginia Woolfs--most depressives are never able to reach those heights. As much as I want to plumb the crevices of the human condition*, I don't want to cut off my ear to do so.
*This phrase always makes me think of the exchange from one of my favorite movies, Hollywood Boulevard:
Mary [she's been trying to convince the director to kill off the other female characters after the first reel, ostensibly to make the film better, really to enhance her part. The director is not really convinced]: Think of the heartbreak, the loneliness...Eric, that's the human condition!
Eric [reprovingly]: This is not a film about the human condition, Mary. This is a film about tits and ass.
