A Journal of My Mid-Life Crisis

7 December 1997 - Mental Health

Part 1: Mental Health - Other People's

We all know the stereotype of men who won't ask for directions, preferring to drive round and round in circles. This week, I was reminded of how much of a tragedy it is that there are people (not just men, but it is more common among them) who are brought up not to ask for help.

A guy from my old subdivision committed suicide Monday night. Apparently he left a note and the rumor mill said that he cited financial problems. So we have a world where a man, particularly one who was a decidedly macho sort (former Green Beret), thinks it makes sense to blow his brains out (er, that's a guess on my part, I didn't ask how he did it) because he's too damn proud to ask for help. The irony is that when a collection was taken up for his widow (who is five months pregnant) and their five year old daughter, a pretty significant total was raised quite quickly, with several people chipping in $20 bills.

Yes, I know money was probably just the straw that broke the camel's back, that his history of depression (he was apparently treated for depression a few years ago and there was some family history too) was really the reason, but there was nothing in his life he couldn't have gotten help with. He was in good health, about my age, had a good job, had (to be trite) everything to live for. If only he thought getting help was acceptable.

Damn! What a waste.

This gets me more worried about my mother's depression. She's been through it before (during menopause) and got better on her own, which makes her think she'll find a way on her own to recover and makes her reluctant to seek help. I did call Elliot and he agreed that a few of the things she said were disturbing. It's one thing if she wants to sell her house, which is something she's been vacillating about for years. It's another thing when she says she'd just become a bag lady. And when she said that she understands why people go to Dr. Kevorkian, even Elliot is concerned. I can understand it too if someone has a terminal illness, even if I disagree with the decision. But most of Mom's medical problems are manageable or would be if she took care of herself. Her asthma would be much better if she didn't have a cat (she loves them, but is allergic) and her arthritis would improve if she got more exercise. The latter is hard in New York winters, though, but there are places she could go - she loved the country line dancing class she took a few years ago so maybe that's an option. It was bad for her that the shopping center four blocks away closed; she used to walk there all the time and now there's not really anywhere for her to go within what she considers walking distance.

I don't think there's a lot of immediate danger in her case. If she has her cat put to sleep, then I will be immediately concerned, though. And, oddly, my travel plans seem to do her some good. Or maybe it's not so odd - I've accused her of living vicariously through me in the past. (And through Elliot but to a lesser extent.) It's also probably a good sign that she told me how she's been feeling. But I still worry.

Part 2: Mental Health - Mine

Aside from worrying about my mother, it's been a fairly depressing week. There are a few reasons for that. Too much death around - not just the guy at work, but my 94 year old great aunt died Wednesday. It wasn't exactly unexpected and it wasn't as if I was close to her, but it's still yet another death. I had a minor spat with my mother over the phone about it because she waited for my Sunday morning call to tell me, instead of letting me know right away. And she didn't go to the funeral. Okay, it was in New Jersey and that's a pain in the neck but still who did Aunt Frieda really have left? She was the last of her generation on my grandmother's side of the family. (One of my grandfather's brothers is still alive). Maybe I'm being hard on Mom unnecessarily but it just seems like a breach of etiquette to me. Not an uncommon one, alas, - Uncle Herb said that the hearse driver said that most of the funerals out of nursing homes nobody goes to - but I still think that if someone you know dies, and especially a relative, you are supposed to go to the funeral if it's feasible to and an hour and a half drive seems an inadequate excuse.

The weather also put a damper on my mood, especially on Friday when we got significant rain. Part of it was enjoyable, actually - a rare thunderstorm early Saturday morning. But I am nervous about driving in the rain and it kept me inside too much. So I feel like I got damn little done all week.

Fortunately, I was rescued from total dullness (reviewing documents, writing memos, and trying to clean off my desk) by a few travel related things. My tickets for the Antarctica trip arrived on Thursday. I had actually been expecting them earlier in the week so called Marine Expeditions and got to try out FedEx packing tracking on the Internet, which was interesting but not entirely useful as I still had to call them when I got home and saw the "we tried to deliver but need a signature" hang tag on my door and still had to drive over to Culver City to pick up the package. The trip handbook is very interesting, too. It's a nice thick compendium of information on geology, history, exploration, politics and penguins. I have the Lonely Planet Antarctica book too and I want to pick up a couple of books about Scott and Shackleton.

I also made some progress on the big mid-life crisis trip by getting my yellow fever vaccination. I'd gone through the human pin-cushion experience for my trip to India last year so I just need to make one trip back, to get a cholera shot (more for protection from border guards with unsterile needles than for any significant medical utility) and to pick up a prescription for mefloquine. From the India trip I know I can tolerate mefloquine well, which is fortunate as chloroquine resistant malaria is such a big problem in Africa.

I also made some more progress on packing up my library. I have over 1200 books catalogued now. And, of course, I am going nuts because I am compulsive enough to want to have all the books by one author in the same box. Or at least all the hardbacks or all the paperbacks. So I start getting crazy when I think I have another book by a particular author and I can't find it anywhere. In particular, I desperately searching for Robert Campbell's Alice in La La Land which I am almost positive I have in paperback. Of course, I could well have read a library copy and not actually own it at all, which is why this is insane. The whole task of packing still seems overwhelming. I keep telling myself that I must be making progress since I can't possibly be going backwards.

And at least I did keep myself from buying something I desperately wanted on the grounds that storing it would be a pain. It's still cool, though - a kitchen organizer in the shape of a kitchen sink with buttons to push that make actual appliance sounds. This was at the Future Studio store, home of The Chicken Boy Catalog for a More Perfect World. (Their web page isn't up yet, but they insist it will be at www.chickenboy.com one of these days.) I did buy one thing, though - a set of drag queen paper dolls! I collect paper dolls and these are hysterically funny. And they don't take up a lot of space.

Kind of ironic that usually I complain about my life being too busy and cluttered and then during a week when it isn't, that's when I find myself feeling down. If I really do prefer the cluttered life, I should have a great week coming up!