samedi 29 août 2009

Post-natal Depression

My dearest friend A has just had a beautiful baby son (and I don't even like babies!) and fears that she is suffering from post-natal depression.
I had told her during her pregnancy that my mother had had an awful time after giving birth to me. This being 23 years ago, PND was not commonly diagnosed and mothers who did not instantly bond with their children were judged by the doctors treating them and were seldom sent to see a mental health provider. Symeon is only two weeks old, and A is already reaching out to her friends asking for pointers and helpful advice.
My heart bleeds for her. I've been through depression and I can't imagine the strain of having to care for a new-born while coping with the horrendous backlash of emotional distress depression brings in its midst. However, I am glad that I told her about it and that she is able to ask for help. Instead of making mothers feel guilty about how they feel, we should always try to help them in this time of need.

Instead of constantly labelling women "emotional", "irrational" or "hysterical", can't we just acknowledge the diversity of experiences we can feel? Science has too often reduced us to the sum of our (private) parts; I strongly applaud the new transparency that enables us to understand how we feel.

Now if only the Scientologists would shut up...

lundi 17 août 2009

Musing on age

Waouh, I did have a long vacation from internet and everything. I was in Germany in a work camp near Frankfurt, enjoying the delights of carting around piles of dirt while trying to get my German level up. I was sleeping in a tent, on hay (to which I am allergic), and jogging every morning. I ate loads of food. All in all, a good vacation.

The topic that most occupied my mind, though, was the subject of age. I was among the eldest people in the camp, most were around 18/19, with our youngest at 16. I am 23. I have never thought of myself as old or venerable in the slightest. In fact, after the reeling bruising reality of my breakup, I had not felt such a teenagerish rush of feelings, of resentment, of bad pop music bolstering or upsetting my fragile mindset. After four weeks away from all of it, of listening to actual teenagers bitching about their emotional upheavals, watching them fumbling in the darkness to express their lust for someone else, I definitely realize that I am not old, but too old for this shit. I don't need reassurance or high school cliquerie to feel good about myself.

This was reassuring and sad. I'm relieved that I am done with the part of my life during which I get confused by everything, and insecured by everyone. I am sad that I didn't get any kick from flirting, or dancing, or singing in the way I used to.

When I read blogs such as Britni's (http://britisstillshameless.blogspot.com/), I feel awed and inspired by her capacity to live out her sexual desires and the ambiguities of feminism and submissiveness. I don't feel that I'm up to owning up who I am in that way. But I'm certainly getting closer to living the life I want for myself. I always knew I didn't need a man to make my life good. But mentoring younger people, dishing out advice and giggling at conundrums made me feel so much better about my own doubts and sadness. I'm still shakily veering into recovery, and some days are bad bad bad. However, I'm growing up well into the person I was always meant to be: "ein strahlendes Mädchen", a glowing, glittering girl.

I just signed up for a year of studying international law and environmental law, and I am STOKED. I feel excited about my studies. And yeah, my heart is cold, and I haven't felt a flitter of desire for the longest time, but I feel like everything is falling back into place.

Oh, and my German is fluent again. That feels nice.