Cognition and chemicals
During my Friday afternoon late lunch with Nikie, talked about depression and the issue of chemicals and cognition, including how I distinguish between the cases of depression which are mainly an imbalance in brain chemicals - the brain just works badly in a particular way - and those which are mainly a cognitive problem, an issue of the ‘propositions in your head’. Les Murray’s depression was a good example of the latter, hence his use of poetry to ‘root out’ the ideas in his head - as is so often the case, the subtext of his childhood experiences - which were causing him problems. Some years ago, an older-and-wiser friend commented that he could see how a persistent error in reasoning could mentally unbalance someone, as the world would keep not acting as they expected. Quite
Alas, those propositions can be very deeply buried and hidden. Recently re-read Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart to try and get at some of the root causes of some of my blocks to action. Somewhat helpful. It did strike me how deeply problematic love has been for me, with my parents being so very bad at positive expression and the whole Ben C disaster. Including self-love. That sort of learned insecurity can both shrink and inflate the self: shrink it so that you’re not worthy, you don’t matter so time shouldn’t be spent on you and inflate it so that it’s tedious and boring and awkward and doing other things are much more fun. The state of mind is literally unbalanced.
Been trying to put into a phrase, as the result of my Canberra trip weekend before last, how one describes Canberra drivers. It’s a curious amalgam of smug, tentative semi-competence. Which is to say, they typically don’t pay much attention to anyone else yet tend to be hesitant in strange ways. In a city of public servants too, fancy that.
Saturday morning, fleabombed the house and took Prunella to the vet over her eczema. I now leap on her in the morning and evening and drop half an antibiotic tablet down her throat. She doesn’t like it.
Had cleaners in to do the kitchen and bathroom on Sunday. This was my housemate Jennifer’s idea, which I had agreed to. It turned out to be a major breakdown in communication, since I was supposed, apparently, to be paying for all $176 of it. Jennifer has been living here since November last year. This has brought to a head for me various issues. I tend, seeking a quiet life, to go along with things. Up to a point. The point has been reached. That I recognise that, to some extent, it is again a bit of harking back (for me) to aspects of my upbringing, so it has not been the adult but the child which has been ‘in charge’ a fair bit of our domestic interactions, provides extra reasons to deal with a few matters.
Alas, those propositions can be very deeply buried and hidden. Recently re-read Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart to try and get at some of the root causes of some of my blocks to action. Somewhat helpful. It did strike me how deeply problematic love has been for me, with my parents being so very bad at positive expression and the whole Ben C disaster. Including self-love. That sort of learned insecurity can both shrink and inflate the self: shrink it so that you’re not worthy, you don’t matter so time shouldn’t be spent on you and inflate it so that it’s tedious and boring and awkward and doing other things are much more fun. The state of mind is literally unbalanced.
Been trying to put into a phrase, as the result of my Canberra trip weekend before last, how one describes Canberra drivers. It’s a curious amalgam of smug, tentative semi-competence. Which is to say, they typically don’t pay much attention to anyone else yet tend to be hesitant in strange ways. In a city of public servants too, fancy that.
Saturday morning, fleabombed the house and took Prunella to the vet over her eczema. I now leap on her in the morning and evening and drop half an antibiotic tablet down her throat. She doesn’t like it.
Had cleaners in to do the kitchen and bathroom on Sunday. This was my housemate Jennifer’s idea, which I had agreed to. It turned out to be a major breakdown in communication, since I was supposed, apparently, to be paying for all $176 of it. Jennifer has been living here since November last year. This has brought to a head for me various issues. I tend, seeking a quiet life, to go along with things. Up to a point. The point has been reached. That I recognise that, to some extent, it is again a bit of harking back (for me) to aspects of my upbringing, so it has not been the adult but the child which has been ‘in charge’ a fair bit of our domestic interactions, provides extra reasons to deal with a few matters.