(54) depression sells
on the last newsletter i had my first wave of unsubscribers (ever), which i think pretty much answers my question of whether being happy makes me less literary or interesting — it does. it really does!
maybe it raises bigger questions, of whether we as a society are taught to consume tragedy as distraction. or rather it is an aesthetic thing, our civilization thinks it is cultured to romanticize sorrow and longing and pain because they are unavoidable… way before the victorians…
but honestly, i think sometimes the most basic instincts are true: deep down we are programmed to be thankful that (greater) evil has befallen someone else, and not ourselves, that bad fortune knocked on our neighbors’ door and skipped our own. and, conversely, we are programmed to shit on our neighbors’ good fortune (it is luck, it will pass; they didn’t deserve it, of course you have to consider their privileges etc).
even the greater joys in life, like childbirth, we feel like we need to compare. you had a c-section? you had it easy. oh, you did it naturally without an epidural? you go super-mom, you are so brave! like there needs to be pain to sanctify any joyous occasion. i really can’t relate to this mindset.
being happy for the national holiday of liberation? only if you engage in consuming the stories of toil and blood of the people tortured by the political police force, of those killed for being anti-regime. you are not morally free to be happy just because, there needs to be a price!
in a (rightfully) angry society, where everyone preaches to be the epitome of woke-ness and empathy, but really empathy was never so scarce, we cannot stand good fortune that doesn’t come with a price. we don’t accept, can’t admit that there is light in darkness (just because, and not as an opposition to that darkness!), that there is joy in the face of real evil (not as a courageous revolutionary act!), that the world keeps spinning when so many and so much of us was devastated. i think ever since the pandemic, followed by the russo-ukranian war, then october 7th and the ongoing gaza ravaging, joined by the insane late-stage capitalism mask that has fallen and the awareness of climate disaster, our sources of empathy were completely depleted. and it is seen as bourgeois, delusional, offensive, ostentatious, preposterous, criminal to be anything-but-mad at the state of things. it is morally wrong to be content when the world is going to shit. que falta de noção!
but both things can be true at the same time, can they not?
and i wonder, if the people who are not my close friends who read this newsletter, which is often sad and depressive (or at least leans heavily on sad and depressive themes) get some warmth and indulge in a little bit of pleasure for seeing someone else’s vulnerability and pain out in the air, and feel a little bit better about their own.
but, to get somewhere, perhaps those same people cannot always get on board with a different tune, with vulnerability when the bravery is healing and mending, reaching a destination and not just talk about healing intergenerational trauma, and to see that all of the things i have been doing now for over a decade of investing in my (mental/spiritual/social/physical) health actually seem to bear fruit and work. with a backdrop of chaos and apocalypse…
although i do appreciate you who give me the space and time to readership when are not bound by any social obligation to me, i really only care about my IRL friends who read me (sorry! ly!) but all this has got me thinking…
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my father has this really hideous (but oh-so-true) saying: “no one forgives the good things that people do for them” (in PT ninguém perdoa o bem que se lhe faz). before i always used to argue with him about it, complain that it wasn’t a proper thing to say, but again and again life has shown me that this is the truest thing.
lately i’ve come to the realisation that you can only really help a friend in (true) hardship if you are willing to lose that friendship forever. someone needing money? ok, lend them, but be prepared to never see the money or the person again. someone in a true mental health crisis that you’ve had to take aggressive action for their safety (after being asked to)? by all means, do whatever it takes to save them, at whatever personal cost, but be prepared to never hear about them again and be left out of any public thank yous. (!!true story!!)
people shouldn’t obviously do ANY good deeds for the sake of being thanked, to earn someone’s debt of gratitude, or expecting payback, but in my 32 years i am again and again surprised how mathematically this process works. it is truly a test of the relationship with that person if you are willing to move on after seeing someone that naked
**
i don’t think that people are inherently evil or mean, but i do think we are inherently programmed for survival like any other living breathing organism, and our intellectual survival also depends on things “making moral sense”. and it doesn’t make any moral sense to be publicly joyful when the world is largely mourning.
and our social survival also depends on being able to cut ties with people with whom we’ve “overshared” or have been “too vulnerable”, who have seen us in too fragile of a state. it is scary to go around in your normal life with someone who has seen you in the bottom of the pit! we are born to avoid feeling shamed…
i’m sorry of this word-vomit-y newsletter didn’t add anything to your life. this rant was just me making sense of it all, how seasons pass, friendships end, and subscribers move on to more palatable content (which might as well be misery, famine, angst, horror! to feel morally sound in this apocalyptical world!)
so, i guess, sorry for being crass and that my happiness is offensive, but i do sincerely hope you don’t forget to smell the spring flowers in the meantime*
*(at least while we’re not all nuked to smithereens :) )
f.
things i’m especially thankful for as of late: family and community sedarim, lots of matzah, and being able to eat chametz again, sleeping with a, taking long walks with j, cuddling our ageing dogs, one-on-one time with friends, especially dinner with d, and impromptu dinner with jz/pijama party with mn, overnight visit from c and baby t, reading children of dune, all vegetables but shoutout to scallions/green onion, baby peas, fava beans from our garden, crunchy radishes, making ajitama/ramen eggs, drinking capilé, responsible sunlight, entering my fragrance-era, going to the movies, being disturbed by richard gadd, oh and we have watched the most brilliant film, that ran straight up to the top-10 best movies j and i have ever watched, if you like real cinema and have a chance don’t miss it: piccolo corpo (tw: stillbirth/child loss)
PSA: speaking of vomit, for those that miss the morbid side, i leave you a little easter egg, so that you don’t think that my life is all privileges and happiness. i have spent the past four days puking my brains out with a nasty GI virus that led to a hospitalization. and, to make it realer and darker, every time i get ill or sick i think that i will die and never heal, and my intrusive self-harm-ish thoughts do return. buuut not so much this time! and i didn’t feel as guilty skipping teaching classes and taking time off work as i usually would, even with a medical leave. which i guess is also progress — that you may feel mad about LOL
so not all is nice or flowery scented in this corner of the world lol. but i am on the mend, "unfortunately”, (fortunately, thank G-D), this won’t be the end of me!