My Depression

My Pressure

I always laugh when I see this meme that our forefathers fought in the great war to save humanity and us from evil dictators, yet after their death they came to realize that Gen Z now has depression or pressure. It is a joke to them and to me. I thought only those who experienced great trauma or great misfortune had the right to claim such honor. Others are losers. A loser is a failure in society. Nobody cares.

Unfortunately, thoughts can be a crime. And I was given a death sentence by my own pressure. How can that be a thing? How can karma hit me out of the millions who deserve to get hit?

I will not and cannot explain the origin of this pressure. Right now, I choose to act on animal instinct: fight or flight. And to clarify, I am not surrendering to my pressure. This post is the Declaration of Independence on the eve before my 16th rotation. And I want to confront my internal prison directly.

But before that, I must admit my most painful spot. I receive and view myself through the eyes of the beholders. And I often take my most reliable feedback from my parents or trusted adults. These, however, can change dramatically if my day suddenly turns around. And this short story by Horkheimer really encapsulates the tension between me and my life.

An Old Story:

There once was a rich young man. He was so charming and captivating that everyone liked him. And he was charming not only with his equals but especially with subordinates. When he came to his father’s place of business, he chatted delightfully with the employees, and whenever he went shopping, his witty talk put the sales people in good spirits for the rest of the day. His moral sensibility was evident in everything he did. He got engaged to a poor girl, and sympathized with poor artists and intellectuals.

Then his father went bankrupt. There was no change whatever in the exquisite qualities of our prince. When he made his small purchases, he chatted as charmingly as he always had, he kept up his connections with artists, and adored his fiancée. But lo and behold, the sales people became annoyed with him because he took up their time, the artists discovered his lack of any sort of productivity, and even the poor girl found him incompetent and insipid, and finally ran off.

This is an old story and would not be worth repeating if it weren’t always misunderstood. For it isn’t the prince that remained the same, it isn’t the others that changed—that would be the customary and superficial interpretation. It is the others that remained the same while the father’s bankruptcy gave the character of our prince an entirely different meaning. A person may suddenly seem stupid, and nothing more need have changed than his bank account.

Just like in economics, when the economy is good, nobody cares about the government. Nobody cares about Mr. Chairman, social rights, and the environment. We only care about money; money talks. But when the economy is bad, the new generation becomes more and more replaceable, and we need a way to express our anxiety.

Who would ever challenge the government if he has 1 million dollar in his bank account?

Now, when the economy is bad, people have time to think. THINK! When people are jobless, they urge and gaze at the government to make some policy that would save their lives.

Then, they will discover, or tend to think, that it is the inability of the government that makes them bankrupt. They will realize how arbitrary and contradictory the government is. They will ask God: “Why are the rich people getting richer while I am getting poorer?”

Lastly, they will think about the Crucible. It is not because of Judge Danforth that John Proctor died; it is because of the system itself. If there is no Danforth, there will be Anford, Banford, Canford…Stanford. It is the coercive system that produces all the judges and assumes the opposition is a witch.

However, that is the slippery-slope form of reasoning that I am falling into.

And self-reasoning and expectations are the Aqua Tofana that is slowly eroding my mind away. I want to learn everything, I tried to learn it all, and I hardly improved at anything.

I thought I hadn’t learned enough, I thought that watching videos could save me. But I simply fell for the delicate digital trap that all platforms make.

You Are Not Smart Enough,
So Watch more videos.

After hours and hours of watching videos, more and more rocks are thrown on top of me. I have to break them bit by bit. But eventually, I can see no light. I run out of power. Beep, beep. 1 percent battery left, shutting down in 3, 2, 1.

Now, thinking about it, it is kind of funny. It is ridiculous. But history and life are never the same as yesterday. That would be stagnation if they were the same. How ridiculous is that.

Finally, during the beginning of my depressed state, I wrote a letter to my advisor. And it foreshadows the entire depressed state that I still haven’t fully realized.

Dear Mr. Incredible,

I have talked with my parents regarding this situation. I wish to talk with you on Monday morning during C block to discuss it further.

After some reflection, I realized that it is unfavorable for a student to publicly (in email) express negative feelings toward a recognized and respected faculty member.

At the same time, I believe it is important to recognize when a teaching style may unintentionally cause distress for a student.

Also, I am afraid to talk with the teacher directly, fearing that she may understand the situation the wrong way. As she holds an irreplaceable position in the humanities office, I need to be careful with my actions and words. I need to think like a philosopher.

The wise Chinese philosopher Mencius once said, “A true man won’t stand beside a collapsing wall.”

And I firmly foresee this collapsing wall. As a wise man and an advisee of Mr. Incredible, I now quote the Art of War by Sun Tzu.

“Of the thirty-six stratagems, retreating is the best policy.”

I cannot be the meal of the standing wolf, nor can I be that stupid sheep who is hallucinating. To retreat is the optimum solution.

Therefore, I need your help.

Best,
Mr. Pigtt