On Annoying Bastards and the Forgotten Arts of Anxiety, Stress and Depression

It should come as no surprise to many of you that we humans, at least in many cultures, have it pretty easy. When I say 'easy' I mean, of course, in comparison to how our biology suggests we should be living. You see, in nature, human beings occupy a unique position of having a manner of adaptive evolution removed in large parts from its genome. The usual way for an organism to adapt to, say, a warm climate is for it to reduce fur, increase vasodilation, alter colouration to protect from the sun and even adapt its lifestyle with potential nocturnal habits or other such wonderful mechanisms. The problem with this is they take several millions of years to randomly mutate and become widespread in the genepool and the chances of that happening before the species has sweltered itself out of existence are slim. What those organisms don't do is spend a handful of millenia growing their species and then invent the fucking air-con unit. This is what makes humans humans, the ability of cognitive, as opposed to genetic, adaptation - through a process not too dissimilar to natural selection - our numbers act as time and our ideas as mutations, there are enough of us throwing our random ideas into the mix and every now and then one works out well and takes off.

I'm sure you will agree that this is absolutely astounding. For the religious minded this could be proof of mankind's divinity and to the scientifically minded it is amazing in its own right and to all people in between, pick a damn side already. But all is not well in Human Land. You see, when you evolve cognitively beyond the means of your body, certain vestigial artifacts remain. By all accounts these are the scourge of modern society. Things like a weakness to pathogens, the inability to continue doing things without needing to sleep, the always intrusive desire to mate and procreate, and, of course, stress and depression.

"WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO BE DEPRESSED ABOUT!?" 'They' shout. 'They' being those seemingly immortal and ever-working gits who presuppose that because you happen to exist in a society where most things can be and often are handed to you on a plate you shouldn't feel unhappy. These annoying bastards have no compassion, and what need is there for compassion in a world where you can selfishly get everything you ever wanted?

Stress, depression, anxiety. Three things which plague me and that, for a long time I wondered why. I know why, shit happens in my life, my body tells me it's fucked up and I respond. The thing is, a lot of people think that if you fix the body everything's fine. It isn't. That's the desire for human technological advancement talking. That's the presupposition of happiness talking. I get stressed for many reasons, life really pisses me off. I'm not laid back about it, from stuff on the news to just the way someone is acting when I'm out and about there are plenty of things that set me into stress mode and I get aggressive when stressed. This is because my body releases lots of chemicals to let me know this stuff irritates me and to prepare me to confront it - It's all perfectly natural. The idea of some doctor trying to thrust a pill on me to reduce that is the equivalent of someone giving severing the nerves in your hand because of your habitual stove burn problem. Your hand still gets charred, you just don't feel it. Those feelings, that we arbitrarily and unfairly designate as 'negative' are the vestiges of exceptionally useful mechanisms in the past. Stress and anxiety instinctive action. Depression has many potential benefits in a 'wild' scenario, including an increase propensity to risk averse actions - dispelling the stereotype of the self-destructive depressive in many cases the thoughts and actions are intended to preserve. These are not the problems of today, but the remains of the solutions of yesterday. It is not some people moving too slow that is the problem, but that humans have advanced too fast and forgot where it is they are supposed to be. There's a big, wild world out there and in that, my mind works better than some jacked up loud gobshite telling me I'm a damn burden! 

I'm tired of people telling me to numb myself because it suits them. Whether it be by working my arse off, or taking pills, or doing yoga and drinking wheatgrass or whatever ridiculous goddamn cureall someone is touting this time. The problems don't go away, and I'm well aware of it. Why then am I always led to believe I am imperfect when I am as nature intended? My stress isn't caused by the simple things, it's caused by the complex ones. My anxiety is not about what it should be about - It's a response to danger intended to initiate a fight-or-flight response - instead, it's caused by fear of the entirely unnatural artifice in which I live. I don't get depressed because there's something wrong with me. I always have been, and will continue to have bouts of being, depressed because there's something wrong with my environment! Whether it be a person, a place, a way of doing things, a way I am treated. You can't take a pill for that, you just need to stop acting like a dick and that's fucking hard to do in a world where you can apparently get everything you ever wanted by acting like a dick! So the cycle continues until such time as, eventually, the anxious and depressed are bred out of the population by a world that rejects anyone who isn't perfectly at ease with a world full of arms dealers, corrupt politicians, state vs civilian espionage, lies, inequality, abuse, famine, disease, selfishness, war, Miley Cyrus and everyone always talking about Breaking Bad. (N.B. Last two items on the list are somewhat less severe than the others)