When money can’t buy happiness
“Only where there is disillusionment and depression and sorrow does happiness arise; without the despair of loss, there is no hope.@ – Haruki Murakami
Can depression be explained?
People quite often encourage themselves to feel different when their life doesn’t show any sign of hope. What can we expect when we see that there is nothing to expect? It was the question that was asked by many artists and scientists. For generations, scientists have been trying to explain depression that takes away the joy from life.
How a label can predict the future
John was trying to explain his depression by silently sitting in his dark room. His life, from the stranger’s point of view, had everything that anyone could dream of including: a huge house, successful business, a caring wife and children, whose needs were always met. He should’ve been the happiest person on the planet, but “I am the unhappiest man in this universe,” John labelled himself gnashing his teeth.
“Alla, I don’t even know what I am doing here. A part of me thinks that there is no hope for what I feel. I didn’t want to get up to come to see you. I felt that was too hard work to do” he scrunched his shoulders forward and his sun tanned face showed the sorrow.
“Do you cry, and how often?” I asked him.
“I don’t cry and don’t remember when I cried the last time. It was most probably 10 years ago, when my dad died. Even that I don’t remember fully,” John voice showed reluctance to talk about it.
“And that is where we are going to start, let’s talk about your dad and his death,” I was pushing to make him talk, although my client was unenthusiastic. I felt that his avoidance of the funeral could bring some light into his present condition.
The feeling of being loved
John was an only child in a wealthy family. His life was “as lonely as the night,” dark and cold. “I knew that my mother and my dad loved me. They told me that all the time.”
“Did you feel that they loved you? I am not asking if you knew. I am asking if you felt It,” I engaged him into conversation.
He was quiet and exhaled a deep hidden sadness of the past.
When the visit can open the door to…
We agreed to see each other at least twice a week. However, the next week, John refused to come to the session. He pretended that he was not well. His excuse to avoid our therapy was stronger than his desire to get well. After reading his short message, I decided to call him.
“I know that you don’t want to come and you feel tired and exhausted by your life. Save your energy. I am going to come to you,” I don’t know why I invited myself to his house, but I did drive to see John later that evening. His wife greeted me with a lovely English tea and left us alone in room.
“I didn’t want to talk to you, sorry. I’ve always thought that it go away. I am talking about what happened and what I saw that night. It has been in my head for 35 long years. I know that you will eventually figure it out and will push me to talk,” he sipped hot tea and continued…
When John was five, he was brutally molested by the servant who had recently started to work in their house. His parents found out about it, but they decided to keep it quiet. Worrying about social acceptance and judgment, they fired their employee and concealed John’s traumatic experience with the resolution that “We will never talk about it again”. John was left with no choice but to be quiet about it for the rest of his life.
“I will make you comfortable to talk about it and you will not have to live with the despair and pain of an open wound. Just let me deal with it,” I assured him that his doubts were protecting his pain rather than destroying it.
Buried secret
When John’s father died, he took the secret with him and John’s painful silence. “It is not fear. He was supposed to protect me. But all they did was to protect themselves,” my client brought the tears of hidden grief to the surface. John wiped his eyes with the tissue and burst into crying. I let him express himself by assuring him that the crying was good. “When you have a shower in the morning, you wash your body, make it clean and smell good. But how do you wash yourself inside? We cry, we clean ourselves from within and let the tears wash our mind, or our souls,” watching him swallowing the tears, I released him from the embarrassment of expressing himself.
Getting started
That was not our last therapy session. John still continued seeing me for another year, a couple of times a month, sometimes more and sometimes less. Feeling relieved from the undisclosed past, he was in need of learning of how life could meet his needs. We went through different situations in his life where he felt he wanted me to guide him and to help transform his unwanted emotions. He still had an old habit of burying his head in the sand and shutting the curtains to create the darkness. However, at least he was aware of his sabotaging desire.