kw: book reviews, nonfiction, memoirs, celebrities, depression
Major depression isn't just one thing. A collection of influences that quiet, or stifle, or crush the soul will manifest one way for some and another way for others. Ginger Zee writes of being suddenly transported into a small, strange, dark room, frequently with scolding voices shrieking her worthlessness. This is depression with just enough delusion that it almost managed to finish her off on a couple of occasions.
The overarching purpose of Ginger Zee's memoir Natural Disaster: I Cover Them; I am One is to chronicle her gradual triumph over that dark room and to offer hope for others similarly afflicted. She is a little young for memoir-writing (about 35 when she was writing the book), but she had already packed an amazing mass of life experience into this half-a-lifetime.
I have to mention while I think of it: The dark room with its scolding voices worked its way into reality with a "boyfriend" named John, a serious abuser, who actually became the expression of that inner domain, keeping her effectively locked up while accusing, scolding, shrieking her worthlessness, and forcing her to reveal passwords to all her accounts, until she managed to find the strength to flee and call 911 for help. In the book it isn't clear if she made this connection.
Ginger Zuidgeest grew up in a chaotic family and came to epitomize the need for chaos in her life to feel "normal". She wasn't abused as a child, nor neglected, but life had its way of providing a whole lot more twists and turns for her than is the usual fare. Her mother was capable of the most amazing conniption fits. I suppose that gave her just enough thick skin to answer brightly and even compassionately the trolls who complained to her via Twitter or email once she became a TV personality. Along the way the trickiness of her hyper-Dutch name was troubling enough to colleagues who had to say in on the air that they soon began calling her "Ginger Z.", and then a friend suggested she simply use the stage name Zee. It was a great idea.
She chronicles the story of her climb to becoming ABC's Chief Meteorologist, but there's little use in my re-hashing it for you. She was driven. So driven that my armchair psychologist hat practically forced itself onto my head, to declare from time to time, "Ms Zee, you aren't just the occasional depressive, you are bipolar ("manic depressive"), someone who is lucky enough that you spend a lot more time with that manic energy than in the dark room." She has, for years, endured a work schedule that would exhaust nearly anyone. She thrives on it. She even managed to wangle a series of assignments that included very high-flying paragliding, swimming in Jellyfish Lake in Palau (where she discovered she was pregnant), and a descent into the amazing Hang Son Doong cave in Vietnam (while pregnant).
Her "escape" from becoming overwhelmed by depression swings around two foci. The first is fleeing from John, the second is checking herself into a mental hospital for a week of special therapy, ten days prior to starting to work for ABC. Her description of that week shows the value of finding a truly competent therapist. In my experience there are many more who are at best marginally competent, and I wonder if my experience is ordinary or not, that more than half belong "in the bottom of the barrel." Actually, I had only one truly good psychiatrist since being diagnosed as bipolar, fortunately, at a less extreme level than most. Dr. Wilson proved to be a supremely good therapist for her, and helped her develop the tools she needed to become the person she needed to be.
Ginger Zee makes it clear that not all who experience depression will experience it "her way", but that no matter how it manifests itself, it can be overcome, and the first step is usually being willing to hold up a hand to say, "You know, I am really NOT OK." She states something we all need to keep in mind: we all have someone, usually several someones, who love us enough to be willing to help, even if it costs them time and energy.
She ends the book with a hint that the coming years may not be any less chaotic, but they will have a clearer focus, her husband Ben and their little son. She is experiencing a core of stability she feared she would never reach. Good on ya, girl!
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Monday, January 16, 2006
Exposing our most devastating affliction
kw: book reviews, nonfiction, depression, bipolar, mental health
I think of it as having lost seven years. Not at the end of life. I don't know when that might be. Rather, two major periods that total seven years were spent unfeeling, in sadness beyond weeping, vascillating between paralyzing lassitude and desperate attempts to feel good, or feel anything.
I underwent psychoanalysis as a pre-teen because I was considered "withdrawn." That was before. As a youngster, I didn't feel so numb; I felt a lot, just most of it was bad, or mixed at best. Yet, there were times of great energy, when I was just the opposite. This became important later. As a young adult, and into middle age, I simply thought I was depressive.
When a third very low period arose in my 50s, I realized I was thinking about suicide quite a bit, so I talked to my doctor. He prescribed Zoloft. That made me rather sluggish, then set me off. On my next visit, I was a full-blown maniac. He suggested I was really cyclothymic, a diagnosis also called Bipolar 3. Bipolar 1 is the worst, the well-known Manic-Depression, and 2 is in between. A couple of other medicines were tried, but had very distressing side effects.
I went to a Psychiatrist. She determined Bipolar 2, with some Social Anxiety thrown in. The more common medications hadn't worked, so I saw one of her colleagues for cognitive therapy and learned to cope, to observe any trend in mood and compensate for it. However, I am now considering that further trials with medication may be in order.
A large part of my change in thinking came through reading Against Depression by Peter D. Kramer. His earlier, better-known book was Listening to Prozac. Let us hope that this new book becomes at least as well-known and -read.
Dr. Kramer's book clearly shows two things, which run parallel courses through the volume. He performs a very valuable service by demolishing the various myths of depression as somehow noble or enlightening. Many people have asked him, "What if Van Gogh (or pick your favorite agonized artist) had used Prozac?" He can clearly state, "We would have a much larger body of even better artwork."
He performs an even more valuable service by showing that depression is, as he states early in Chapter 12, "the most devastating disease known to humankind."
Have you heard or read about the view by AA leaders that Alcoholism is a progressive, terminal illness, that cannot be cured or reversed, but can be treated. That holds in spades for depression. Contrary to a number of other chronic diseases, depression is found to be one thing, a progressive decrease in resiliency of the central nervous system; a brain disease that progressively reduces the size of those portions of the brain that retain memories, enable higher thinking, and feel our most precious emotions.
Dr. Kramer dares to hope that we can eradicate depression, without eliminating ourselves. Someone may have a melancholy or introverted personality. That doesn't guarantee depression, though it is a pretty likely result. Someone properly medicated for depression can still feel sadness at sad events, without the consuming, obsessive anhedonia that many experience.
All told, about 16% of people experience major depression; and twice as many women as men. As mentioned, it is progressive and terminal. These 16% not only have a high risk of suicide, they have more heart disease, diabetes, and tendency to strokes. Their lives are measurably shortened. Using MRI, doctors now can observe the progressive destruction of brain tissue as the disease progresses.
The 18th chapter parallels depression with bipolar disorders. The chapter title is "Art," because of the common belief that depressive and bipolar artists produce more profound and creative art. Here is where the rubber hit the road for me. One writer stated, "When I am manic I write; when I am depressive, I edit." I have known for years that I get most of my creative work done in a few days each month or so, and the rest of the time, I am better doing stuff where I can sit alone and plod away at less demanding work.
However, the author made it clear that bipolar disorder is also progressive and terminal. Some of the brain areas affected are different than in depression, but there is progressive damage in either case. While brutal medications such as Lithium definitely dull the creative edge—and working artists will purposely go off Lithium when they need to make a buck—others of more recent vintage do not.
It may take another generation or longer for society to view depression in a clear light, as a disease with no nobility about it whatever, and set about making life better for one-sixth of the population (and the much greater number of those who love them). A smaller number are bipolar, but need similar levels of help. Until then, if I can get one doctor to take bipolarity as seriously as Dr. Kramer takes depression, I may be able to make life better for at least myself and those who love me best.
I think of it as having lost seven years. Not at the end of life. I don't know when that might be. Rather, two major periods that total seven years were spent unfeeling, in sadness beyond weeping, vascillating between paralyzing lassitude and desperate attempts to feel good, or feel anything.
I underwent psychoanalysis as a pre-teen because I was considered "withdrawn." That was before. As a youngster, I didn't feel so numb; I felt a lot, just most of it was bad, or mixed at best. Yet, there were times of great energy, when I was just the opposite. This became important later. As a young adult, and into middle age, I simply thought I was depressive.
When a third very low period arose in my 50s, I realized I was thinking about suicide quite a bit, so I talked to my doctor. He prescribed Zoloft. That made me rather sluggish, then set me off. On my next visit, I was a full-blown maniac. He suggested I was really cyclothymic, a diagnosis also called Bipolar 3. Bipolar 1 is the worst, the well-known Manic-Depression, and 2 is in between. A couple of other medicines were tried, but had very distressing side effects.
I went to a Psychiatrist. She determined Bipolar 2, with some Social Anxiety thrown in. The more common medications hadn't worked, so I saw one of her colleagues for cognitive therapy and learned to cope, to observe any trend in mood and compensate for it. However, I am now considering that further trials with medication may be in order.
A large part of my change in thinking came through reading Against Depression by Peter D. Kramer. His earlier, better-known book was Listening to Prozac. Let us hope that this new book becomes at least as well-known and -read.
Dr. Kramer's book clearly shows two things, which run parallel courses through the volume. He performs a very valuable service by demolishing the various myths of depression as somehow noble or enlightening. Many people have asked him, "What if Van Gogh (or pick your favorite agonized artist) had used Prozac?" He can clearly state, "We would have a much larger body of even better artwork."
He performs an even more valuable service by showing that depression is, as he states early in Chapter 12, "the most devastating disease known to humankind."
Have you heard or read about the view by AA leaders that Alcoholism is a progressive, terminal illness, that cannot be cured or reversed, but can be treated. That holds in spades for depression. Contrary to a number of other chronic diseases, depression is found to be one thing, a progressive decrease in resiliency of the central nervous system; a brain disease that progressively reduces the size of those portions of the brain that retain memories, enable higher thinking, and feel our most precious emotions.
Dr. Kramer dares to hope that we can eradicate depression, without eliminating ourselves. Someone may have a melancholy or introverted personality. That doesn't guarantee depression, though it is a pretty likely result. Someone properly medicated for depression can still feel sadness at sad events, without the consuming, obsessive anhedonia that many experience.
All told, about 16% of people experience major depression; and twice as many women as men. As mentioned, it is progressive and terminal. These 16% not only have a high risk of suicide, they have more heart disease, diabetes, and tendency to strokes. Their lives are measurably shortened. Using MRI, doctors now can observe the progressive destruction of brain tissue as the disease progresses.
The 18th chapter parallels depression with bipolar disorders. The chapter title is "Art," because of the common belief that depressive and bipolar artists produce more profound and creative art. Here is where the rubber hit the road for me. One writer stated, "When I am manic I write; when I am depressive, I edit." I have known for years that I get most of my creative work done in a few days each month or so, and the rest of the time, I am better doing stuff where I can sit alone and plod away at less demanding work.
However, the author made it clear that bipolar disorder is also progressive and terminal. Some of the brain areas affected are different than in depression, but there is progressive damage in either case. While brutal medications such as Lithium definitely dull the creative edge—and working artists will purposely go off Lithium when they need to make a buck—others of more recent vintage do not.
It may take another generation or longer for society to view depression in a clear light, as a disease with no nobility about it whatever, and set about making life better for one-sixth of the population (and the much greater number of those who love them). A smaller number are bipolar, but need similar levels of help. Until then, if I can get one doctor to take bipolarity as seriously as Dr. Kramer takes depression, I may be able to make life better for at least myself and those who love me best.
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