My Civilized Depression
One of the major symptoms of depression is withdrawing from other people. So it’s interesting that as we civilized folks have withdrawn as much as we can from the rest of the community of life, depression has gotten more common. Much like someone suffering from depression distances himself from other people, most of us Americans distance ourselves from nature. A depressive thinks he’s alone; we wonder if we’re alone in the universe, as if theoretical life on other planets would somehow make more legitimate company than the life on our own. Is it any wonder, then, that taking a walk in the country has been found to help treat depression?
It seems like any kind of interaction with other species makes us feel better. Regular contact with animals – generally in the form of pet ownership – can improve mental and even physical health. Study after study proves what we should have known all along: that no man is an island, and that goes for mankind as well. The new buzzword is ecotherapy. The moral of the story is: live like we’re not alone – because we aren’t.
Ecotherapy gives me a great deal of hope. For many years, I’ve struggled with depression, and I’ve worried for a while that it will prevent me from ever rewilding. Depression makes you lose interest in things you once loved; going outside, for instance, or learning how to identify edible and medicinal wild plants. Those primitive skills workshops and gatherings that are so essential to my rewilding feel so tiring to me that I’ll find excuses not to go. And then there’s the social isolation; how can I live in a tribe when I find it so painfully difficult to talk to people?
But if interacting with other species helps heal depression, then this is good news for me. It means rewilding can be the therapy that will further help me rewild. And I have noticed its positive effects in my own life. Walking along the Montour Trail improves my mood (especially if I see birds, rabbits, groundhogs, and voles, as I often do). I also feel better after I’ve watered or pruned the plants in our little potted permaculture garden. Even seeing a few little sparrows hopping around in a parking lot makes me happier.
Ultimately, rewilding is a process of emerging from your self-imposed isolation to reconnect with the rest of the community of life. My depression adds another layer of difficulty to it, but it’s still the same job. I suspect – and hope – that rewilding will become a self-reinforcing cycle. As I do more of it, it makes me feel better, and therefore becomes easier to do, so I do more of it, etc. etc. At least, that’s the hope.
July 25th, 2009 |
Good point, “Edge”! When I hear people speaking German, I’d call it “tuning in” when I listen, and I catch a few words or phrases that I can recognize, and try to piece together what it means. I don’t feel lonely then, because the task of figuring out the meaning takes up too much of my awareness for that. And besides, I’ve become acutely aware of the German speakers in front of me. Likewise, when I go for a walk and hear the birds singing, I call it “tuning in” when I listen and try to catch the songs and calls that I recognize, and try to piece together what it means. I don’t feel lonely because I’ve put that energy into trying to understand, and I feel acutely aware of the birds who sing. So, perhaps we mean two different things by “tuning in.” I do sometimes feel something like grief when I stop to think, knowing that my human birthright should put me in communication with this more-than-human world, that I should feel at home here, not like a tourist. But more often, I feel exhilaration at what I do understand, and a craving to understand more. Perhaps that just shows how näive I remain, and how much farther I have to go; perhaps you’ve articulated a perspective I just don’t have the experience yet to fully understand.
July 24th, 2009 |
Speaking of medicinal plants, have you tried St. John’s wort (hypericum perforatum)? I’ve found that it helps me quite a bit.
July 24th, 2009 |
Timely article and great to see you guys writing again!
I like to think that I count the awareness of plants and animals as companionship. But just as having loving family member or partner or friend with me sometimes doesn’t help with the overwhelming feeling of isolation and total aloneness, the knowledge that there’s non-human life all around me sometimes doesn’t help much, either… no matter how much I try to take comfort in the fact.
I guess that’s the thing with depression: you’re not living in the moment (not ‘tuned in’ per the comments below) and are unable to appreciate that there is indeed companionship on offer.
Not that I’m saying animals (or plants, or microbes [check out Natasha Campbell-McBride's GAPS diet!]) can’t or don’t help with depression. On the contrary – I believe they’re certainly helping with my situation. I truly believe they’ve helped me in the past when I’ve felt as though in serious trouble and thought that all was lost beyond hope of recovery.
I’m hopeful with you, Guili – and for me and everyone else!
July 23rd, 2009 |
To tune in is not the same as understanding what you’re tuning in to. Like going to a foreign country without knowing the language. You’re there, but you don’t know quite what you’re experiencing. You don’t think that’s simultaneously exhilarating, tiring, and potentially lonely?
But yes, I have the same experience with loud parties … It’s like the overstimulation is an attempt to compensate for the lack of feeling.
July 23rd, 2009 |
You don’t count the awareness of the plants and animals with you as companionship? It seems to me that if you’ve really “tuned in,” as you say, you’d have a very hard time feeling lonely. If anything, I sometimes feel overwhelmed, like at a really crowded party, because I can feel EVERYTHING around me with its own awareness, all of them talking to each other in their own way, every sight and sound communicating meaning. I’ll “tune out” sometimes just because I can’t take such an intense crowd! That really helped me understand why people would lose their innate animism–simply because we’d like some peace and quiet from time to time, just like you wouldn’t want to spend your whole life in a huge dance club with a thomping techno beat.
July 23rd, 2009 |
What I find is that when I tune in to the natural world, I get really lonely because hardly anyone else is tuned in, and I get really tired because it takes so much energy to be in an unfamiliar state of consciousness. But when I’m tuned in to the “wavelength” of ordinary humanity, I feel so cut off. It really is a conundrum.