Mart-deBlog

People who read this blog have come to me, sometimes a little shocked, about the depressed content of certain posts. The last one was written in a slightly drunken state, "Caught in void". This time I will write about myself from a more objective standpoint; I took a big psychological test and yes indeed, I am officially depressed. I don't really care though and want to explain why.

One of my courses this year is Clinical Psychology, about psychotherapy. I get on well with the professor who is a practicing therapist himself and he offered me to do the famous MMPI test outside class time. The MMPI is based on large empirical research of psychotic diseases and their symptoms, it is the standard test that is applied when you enter therapy. It consists of 600 questions. To make this post not too boring, you can do an official psychological test yourself, although it is a supertiny one. Do the Myers-Briggs (don't worry, just character traits on couple of scales) by surfing here.

So Dr. Dunn comes to me and asks "were you honest in your answers" and I answer that I was. Then he says he needs some time to discuss it and so I went there for half an hour today in my break. In a nutshell:
1. I have a depression, to a (severe) clinical degree.
2. I do not suffer to an unbearable degree. Meaning that the depression has been long-lasting and I have found a way to cope with the depression myself. Or in other words, I do not have a depressive episode but rather a depressed personality.
3. I readily admit issues (such as I do now) but nobody can help me with it. I do not trust/believe/want help from the outside. Therapy could maybe only help if longterm (on average, five years of therapy).

Of course there was more information, about my cynical character, shyness, etc etc but the depression scale was clearly the biggest issue. Especially interesting was the combination of the depression, my resistance against help from the outside, and So then you hear this psychotherapist telling you all the things you already know, and which everyone who knows me suspected. What do you do with this information? Well let me give my compacted ideas, whether it sounds like a defense mechanism you can judge for yourself;-).

This notorious MMPI is based on statistical research, so on averages of a group. I can experience my depression differently than any other would experience it, even when the symptoms are the same. Also the MMPI is American, coming from the culture where deviation and non-conformism is considered a disease and unhappiness a sickness. I believe the experience of tragedy in life is just as intens and beautiful as the experience of happiness, even more it is the sense of melancholia that gives meaning to euphoria and vice versa. America has the best universities in the world, still every genius in America comes from Europe, and I believe partly this is because of the tragedy that is taboo in America and embraced in Europe. Nietszche would agree with me. Curing my depression would mean veiling part of my (supposedly 'over'sensitive) experience of life, I just experience somedarker realms as well as the lighter days. The occasional wandering in the darker regions of life only signal authentic and real experiences. It is in the differences from other people where our individuality lies, almost all my friends have slight psychotic features and that is only the expression of their uniqueness, I appreciate them for it: they know areas of life I don't and most people don't. And fuck-it, I just don't care that I am depressed. Ha!

Next year I am going to the ECLA (European College of Liberal Arts) in Berlin.
I am happy that I am going to Berlin, I really think it is my kind of city. And I am also happy that I will study at the ECLA, except for the fact that it is again a school that needs explanation. For some reason, I have the tendency to get myself into unconvential places, first there was the Vrije School, then there was University College and now the ECLA. So, the question is asked again 'what are you going to do there?' Well, let me explain for those who don't know. At UC I started studying for a Bachelor of Science (in mathematics, biology and neuroscience), however, somewhere in my second year I got into one of my existential crisis and realized that I have to study philosophy. But, since it was too late for a full switch to humanities, I have done as much philosophy possible while still getting my BSc. Now at the ECLA I can do those courses that are important to a general humanities background, such as history, literature and politics. It is not a Master and it is not a Bachelor, I will only receive a general certificate. What I will study there is a general course 'Intellectual History', where the big texts are read such as Homer, Plato, Shakespeare, Marxs etc. Then I will also study German and have elective courses in which I can choose any of the humanities subjects (film studies, philosophy, etc.). And that is what I will do. In Berlin!

So how was Bologna?









Bologna is a small city, with an old centre, a couple of interesting churches, but especially it is an island of alternative students doing whatever they feel is right. It is right to start the evening start with a Spritz (campari mix) before dinner, on the street of course, if it does not rain. Apperetivo it is called. It is right to invade a classroom and declare it student property and use it for 'different' lectures (on Pornography for example), and have a relaxing joint while studying the heavy stuff of the world. Because everyone seems politically engaged.I went there with Ifeta and Andrzej, two great friends from UCU with whom I could just enjoy the friendships without any of the UC troubles, just having fun together. And then there are the people themselves, the happy Bolognese. They are in one word so uplifting, they draw you out your shell, they pull you into extraversions (okay, a little drink helps as well). It was exactly what I needed. So, everynight was fun, Italian, and happy. I wouldn't say it was crazy partying every night, but really just drinking and having casual conversations with random people about not-so-casual issues. Just the way I like it.

Halfway the last semester tonight. Only 7 more weeks and I'm done here at UCU. Too bad I have already started revising, looking back on my time on UC. It's a nasty habit of mine, not being able to await the future, the natural time for things to happen. So here I am, mentally already in May, giving meaning and value to my time on campus. I hate it. Why am I so serious? No.. Why am I trapped in my introspection? That words haunts me: 'introspection', for many people it is a very happy and necessary thing but what is good for one is bad for another; and to me introversion is my cage, my vice. It is the root of my uglier character traits, such as my self-absorption, my indifference to friends-out-of-fashion, or my simple boringness.
Time for a sip of Cavelli.
My mind constantly sucks me in, like a black hole with gravity that even freezes time, because that is what happens: I'm quasi-dead in the present, at least to the outside world. Too often I have placed myself in the future, the graduate programs I want to do, the country I could eventually live in; and all the while my present froze. And so I constantly get sucked in myself, like right now while I am writing this post with the taste of cheap alcohol in my mouth. I really want to write stupid happy posts, about the nice things in life, but I simply can't. The last three year have been endless wanderings in an empty wasteland. There is nothing left in my mind to rationalize, there is nothing new, or unexpected happening happening in the void. My mind is just empty, analyzed to death. And all frustration, even the frustration of knowing that introversion is useless and the resistance against it, it all pulls me only deeper in introversion. The more I resist, the deeper I sink. I can only complain, and I hate complaining and that makes it only worse. I can only indulge in self-pity, and I hate self-pity and that makes it only worse. I can only be silent, and I hate silence and that makes it only worse. I even hate the word "I". Everything that affects me only fuels my self-analyses. And I try to escape: good music draws me out, parties draw me out, my friends make me laugh; but it is just too strong: the moment I am left by myself I inflect inside out. Why am I not interested in the simply daily life outside my head? Why doesn't it stimulate me enough, why doesn't the world capture me like my head captures me.
Let's take another sip.
'Cause maybe that is just it: The world just doesn't stimulate me enough. If I think about it (Ha!), my early memories in childhood were that of not being happy in the world. Depression it's called, even if you are six. I also think it might run in the family, my brother Joost is lost in virtual worlds in the same way as I am lost in my mind. Several friends conceptualize me as asexual, having no sexual interest whatsoever. The world and the bodies therein just doesn't stimulate me like it does for others and it annoys them. I think. Just hypercritical to everything in the world, hoping that everything that is so - well, uninteresting- will only turn out to be the background of the beautiful things to come. Sometimes I think it will be children, or maybe not.
Let's take another sip.
Anyway, I'm sorry to have bothered you again with my troubles, my dear patient reader. Seriously, I don't know how people continue reading this, how people can stand me in general. Please feel free to react harshsly. 'Martin shut up' might be a wise thing to comment. Joy can be demanded.
And now it's time for a party in the all too well-known bar, and the comments 'Martin why are you so quiet?', 'Don't be so fucking boring' while I wander the wasteland called UC.

*don't worry mam, just airing some frustrations.