I have to blog today.
For reasons I won't go into here (fearing future employers may research me online)
I am emerging from a few months spent trapped in what I have come to name 'the
fog'. Those who experience 'the fog' will know what I mean when I say 'the
fog'.
I realised today that this fog had lifted when I sat in a lecture listening
to a very interesting and clearly talented author discuss his work and his
writing process. When fog-free, listening to lectures, participating in
discussions and taking many (many) notes is the norm. When the fog descends,
however, it is all I can do to motivate myself to get out of bed let alone
delight in all that there is to delight in around me (and there's a lot).
Today, however, as I listened I realised that I was really listening, taking it
all in and not just looking in the right direction desperately trying to focus.
I decided to test just how fogless I was by closing my eyes for a few seconds
and seeing if I felt relieved shutting the world out and reminding myself of
sleep...I didn't! I actually wanted to be awake and be there in that room at
that moment; for me this is a very good sign! It is a good sign
because those who know me know that I LOVE being at university. I moan about
deadlines and being tired and stressed like everyone else but I have never felt
more welcome and at home as I do in a classroom listening to one of my
lecturers talk with passion and expertise. For me, it just feels right.
Despite evidence to the contrary, I now want to try and convince you that the
point of this post today is not to go on exclusively about depressi...er, 'fog'
but to share some of the lovely things I've noticed now that I can see again.
Three times this week I have wanted to clap during a lecture. One of these
moments occurred yesterday in a class on globalisation; one little PowerPoint
slide was so well considered, so wonderfully written that it clarified any
niggling doubts I had about the process of abstraction. The second moment occurred
as a result of another slide, by the same lecturer, discussing the implications
of the autonomy we're all supposed to be 'thankful' for in enlightened society
and the third arose this morning when the author, David Calcutt, read a few
pages from a book he is working on as a means of answering my question about
the 'starting point' of a new story. His writing was magnificent and after he
read it he looked at me and said 'does that help?' I managed to pull myself
together to say 'thank you; that was excellent'. It really was.
(A word on clapping while we're here: I didn't actually clap during any of
the three moments I have shared here. I'm British and random outbursts of joy
or excitement don't come easy. We clapped at the end of David's talk but that's
because it's ok to clap at the end of things. Clap at any other time and you'll
be branded a weirdo, even by those of us who are deeply suspicious of
conventions...suspicious or not, social conventions are very powerful. Perhaps
I'll think about the possibility of considering clapping next time, maybe.)
Other lovely things this week include better sleep, getting up at the time I
planned, keeping meeting times with various people, energetic debates with
fellow students in class (whether they like it or not), considering 'life after
uni' and making arrangements to see a close friend for supper and a few other
friends for drinks next week. I have really had to focus on doing these things
but I've done them and I feel better for it and I think I have channel four to
thank, in a roundabout way.
Earlier this week I was watching television with my dad and we happened to
catch the end of a show about the Emergency Services on, as I mentioned,
channel 4. We tuned in during a rather distressing situation involving an alcoholic
suffering both addiction and severe depression. I will suspend my critique of
why I think such shows are being broadcast (for now) but it is fair to say that
I am often troubled by how addiction and 'mental illness' are dealt with in the
media. In this instance, however, this man was clearly in an extremely dark, frightening
and all-encompassing place and it was disturbing yet compelling viewing. As is
the case with shows like this, they did a 'few months later' type thing and
this man reappeared on this screen. He did look better; he was
noticeably brighter and less encumbered. It was what he said, however, that has
stayed with me all week. Without remembering the exact words it was something
along the lines of, 'you might as well have a go at being happy'. What a
wonderful thing to say, I thought. I am now wondering if this statement helped
pull me out of the fog because as soon as I got back to my flat I stuck a
post-it with those very words on the mirror in my bedroom. It wasn't 'wake up
happy' or 'be happy TO THE MAX!!!’ often followed closely by 'buy this' or
'believe that', it was: 'have a go'. Now, I'm sure if I put my Baudrillard hat
on I could criticise all of this and find a reason to send the lot back to the
capitalist consumer system it came from; I do think, however, that this
(relentlessly critical) line of thinking is sometimes where the fog is at its
thickest and most powerful. Knowing what I think I know makes 'being happy'
seem nothing more than a triumph of, to quote Mr. Baudrillard, 'the hegemonic
culture of happiness'. Fundamentally, I do agree with him which means I won't be investing
in a life coach, placing my faith in a new car or berating myself for not
experiencing happiness in the same way as many others any time soon. I won’t be
stepping blindly, hands bound, into happiness but I at least have to try
and have a go at being happy in my own way, I might as well.
