Sometimes the title of a book does not tell the entire story (as Borges said). Like Uncle Tom’s Cabin. This book is an example were the title does indeed tell the tale.
Depression is a choice. That is what Curtiss is saying. But maybe you are not entirely convinced?
To anyone having experienced depression it might sound like a bizarre and even outrageous claim. Isn’t the exact opposite the case? When depression strikes, it feels like a blow from the outside. Everything seems pointless. And there is simply nothing you can do. Except take drugs.
Yep, depression is a disorder of the brain, swallow some pills to fix it.
Curtiss says, more or less, that depression is a state invented by the pharmaceutical industry to sell its products. I am exaggerating slightly.
“It does not matter that people insist that ‘they can’t help it’. It does not matter that the whole psychological community declares that manic depression (bipolor disorder) is a mental illness and is not a question of choice. [...] The whole psychological community is wrong.“ (p. 231)
There certainly is a difference between depression and the flu or cancer. Curtiss has suffered from depression (and mania) and in fact a large part of the book consists of autobiographical evidence. She did have a twisted mind. (And her husband must have been a saint to endure it.)
The main thing she says is that depression is real but there are ways out of it. Use, what she calls, directive thinking. Think about something else. Mumble nursery rhymes. For example.
It is a long book. Too long, and certainly not very structured. But it is quite easy to put it into a nutshell. There are people, she says, who claim that depression is caused by self-pity. And people who think that are not suffering from depression. So the question is are they just ignorant of the pain of “the rest of us had to endure? Or was it just the other way round? Was the reason they didn’t get depressed directly due to the fact that they had that belief?” (p. 80)
This is indeed what she thinks. And I think, I agree with her. The reason why they don’t suffer from depression is because they believe it is caused by self-pity “and therefore they simply refuse to concentrate on how bad they feel...”
This is an easy answer, maybe too easy. It seems obvious, that Prozac and other drugs must do something helpful to some people. (The metaphors she uses to disprove this point seem quite silly to me.) But it is also obvious, that the fact that depression is regarded as an illness curable by drugs leads to people developing the symptoms in the first place. People are easily influenced. One example she gives is multiple personalities. A really strange concept. Different personalities in one body. I certainly thought that there must be a real basis for the stories one used to read about. But by now the concept seems to be totally discredited. Psychiatrists literally caused patients to make those personalities up. And if you can make someone make up different personalities, how easy it must be to convince them they suffer from “depression“. Or whatever disorder that is current. You can make people think they are trans. (This is something new not covered in the book. But she talks about obesity. This is also something that can be remapped into a disorder that demands pharmaceutical help.)
I used to suffer from depression. And I know that it seemed like there was nothing one could do. Except waiting for it to end. What did help me was that I said that depression is not an illness but the default situation. Life is in fact meaningless. One should kill oneself. But on the other hand, why not trick oneself into the delusion that everything is fine. That it is meaningful to write silly reviews on Goodreads, for example?) So I do what Curtiss recommends. Think of silly things. Do not think about yourself. Certainly do not think that you have a right to be happy.
There is more to the book. She goes on, for example, explaining why the Dogma of self-esteem (people just need to learn to think they are great to make them great even if there not capable to excel at anything) is bad for the individual and the society. Again, I agree.
A well written book, much too long, as I said. But one more thing I have to mention:
“Surely, it is no accident that the French word for bread is pain”. (p. 208)
Now, this is such an incredible nonsense that I should have thrown the book into the dust-bin right away. If you are capable of letting some thought like this pop-up chances are that you are out of your mind. (Even worse, she thanks her editor for this observation.) Incredible.
7/10