Left Field by Patricia Nell Warren
Recently a journalist friend told me that she had been so depressed about the state of the world, she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Her comments made me realize that lately I’ve run into many people who are deeply depressed. Indeed, I have to admit that I sometimes feel deeply depressed myself.
Evidently there is a collective gloom over humanity right now. It’s vaster than our personal lives, than any of the personal health issues that may feel like an ax hanging over our heads—as it does for an HIV-positive friend of mine who is starting chemotherapy as I write this. Is the gloom a natural reaction to the times we live in? To the daily economic struggle that never seems to end? To the toxic politics and cataclysmic events happening in our country, our world, which are so massive that many people feel they can’t do anything to make a difference?
Example: An extreme depression is haunting many people who lost their homes, jobs, possessions, sometimes family and friends, even pets, to Katrina. I’ve felt the depression in e-mails and phone calls from refugee friends. And, for every person who went through Katrina, there are thousands more who feel their personal lives adding up to disaster. Unemployment, bankruptcy, a crippling accident, being the victim of a crime, has had a deep impact on them.
Today the U.S. is seeing soldiers coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan with post-traumatic stress disorder. But PTSD is not limited to soldiers. Civilians may not experience military combat, but there is that mysterious realm of “the collective” where human beings are all connected to each other, part of each other. The immediacy of the news media helps to intensify that feeling of connectedness...
especially at times like 9/11, Katrina, the tsunami, when millions of people sit riveted in their living rooms and actually watch it happening on the TV screen. On this plane, we are all directly affected by the wars, poverty, natural disasters, atrocities and tortures, denials of human rights, corruption, and abuses of power. Whether we’re soldiers or not, we’re all fighting for our lives.
How will Americans fight this epic depression? Many people—not just pharmaceutical executives but ordinary people as well—believe that antidepressants are the way. Not surprisingly, therapists and counselors are out there pushing meds at Katrina survivors. Indeed, our government is launching a national mandatory mental-health policy, under which all Americans will be screened and medicated. (More about this in an upcoming Left Field.)
But while some people swear that they benefit from meds, others do not benefit—indeed, they can be harmed by powerful side effects. A growing number of Americans mistrust psychotropic drugs as creations of powerful corporations that aim to classify almost everything that humans experience as a “treatable illness.” Many people become dependent on their meds, and don’t necessarily find healing.
People who reject drug therapy have to find alternatives; often they look for a spiritual way to heal their depression. They may or may not join an organized religion. Indeed, religion and spirituality are not the same thing. Most religions are based on a set of rules—and many people find rules comforting; they like being told what to do. By contrast, many spiritual disciplines are based on finding your own way, rather than having someone else tell you what that way is. The Chinese have a saying that translates, “There are many different rivers that can all get you to the sea.”
For myself, I’ve chosen the spiritual ways over organized religion, and learned that the search is more about the questions than the answers. Somehow this search helps me hold onto my human dignity on a daily basis. It also helps hold the depression at bay.
Whether you’re “religious” or “spiritual,” prayer definitely can help. As the Chinese saying suggests, there can be many ways to pray. My HIV-positive friend made lots of prayers his own way as he started chemo. For me, prayer is not always a conscious decision. It can happen when I’m out in my garden, and see how beautiful the plants are when they’re backlit in the late-afternoon light—suddenly I find that I’m praying in the way that I understand prayer. How such an experience will help me make a difference in today’s frightening world is a mystery. But hey, it helps me get out of bed in the morning and battle my way through another day.
Author of fiction bestsellers and provocative commentary, Patricia Nell Warren has her writings archived at www.patricianellwarren.com. Reach her by e-mail at patriciawarren@aol.com.
Copyright © 2005 by Patricia Nell Warren. All rights reserved.
