Lucy Maud Montgomery and Depression
I really liked mychapeau's thoughtful and link-rich post on the recent news that LMM, author of Anne of Green Gables, had committed suicide.
Most are aware of her books, the most famous being the eponymous Anne-with-an-e. Many like the Emily series, some have real trouble with it for various reasons; I think the single other book I've seen most praise of is The Blue Castle. Montgomery's journals make fascinating reading. Though she edited them over and over, she kept the spirit of her teen years, and her young womanhood during a time of unrelenting change. She was a working girl for a while, at a newspaper, giving a vivid picture of what life was like; she had to wait for her marriage until her grandmother died, because women, especially unmarried ones, were expected to be live in nurses for older relatives, if the family couldn't afford servants.
She suffered all her life from what we now recognize as depression. You can see it early on in the journals, how she'd dread winter. She'd sit alone in her room writing long entries as she tried to scold and cheer herself into being busy and useful, meantime grandmother downstairs dealt with her own inner conflict by sticking to a rigid schedule: no fire lit before a certain date, no matter what the weather, every single bite of cake must be consumed no matter how dry and tasteless it was before Maud could bake a new cake, because waste was sinful. The long wintry evenings, grandma would read the Bible and sniffle over passages; she did not like company.
Not that the first two journals are all misery. She had a lot of fun, and paints a fascinating picture of life out west, then college, which she enthusiastically adored. Her flirts and friendships, family reunions, great dinners with lots of gossip, are all engagingly depicted. She took photos of her rooms, and her favorite walks, and houses.
There were two other events that seem to have fueled her depression. One, was her falling in "love" (lust) with the son of the people she was boarding with when a teacher. They sat in the downstairs parlor and necked secretly, and she then hated herself afterward. He wanted to sleep with her, she couldn't bring herself to go that far and still keep her self-respect. Meanwhile, she was engaged to a second cousin who was clever, wealthy, well-respected...and she discovered she was utterly unattracted to him physically. But in those days you could not voice such a reason for not marrying. She suffered miserably over that mess because she had no one to talk to, to help her sort out the differences between attraction and love. When she finally broke her engagement, the family all gave voice against her for willfulness, and he wrote her long, impassioned and angry letters that she dreaded for months.
She gives a vivid picture of frontier schoolteaching--one young girl being in charge of enormous schools, teaching all subjects, doing all the grunt work. and having to board with people, which meant one's private life was also under scrutiny by everyone in town. Not that single woman teachers were permitted to have much of a private life.
Like any human being, she's not always consistent. There are times when I think she was very aware of a possible future audience; the entries are so obviously rewritten, and full of very arch references to "modern women" (she, of course, scorning such behavior, being a traditional lady--and proud of it) yet she was determined to have an education, to have a career (teaching, then writing) and finally a pioneer in gaining rights for writers, taking her publisher to court.
When her best friend died in the big influenza epidemic, it shipwrecked her emotionally. For years after she would write about calling out to Frede, wondering if she was still present in some sense--though a minister's wife, she struggled with questions of faith, and had to hide that too, while presiding over grindingly boring missionary and sewing circle meetings--until one day a cat acted in a certain way, convincing her (for the moment) that Frede was indeed watching over her, just as they'd promised one another. She adored her animals as much as she adored nature; her favorite walks were (besides her journal) her anodyne to pain.
In between all these things she records her attempts to write, to send out, her first tiny successes (paid five dollars for stories, which would be about a hundred bucks today, was cause for joy), and how she dealt with success...and with being ripped off by her publishers because "ladies" don't sully their hands with "business". She enjoyed her early marriage. But when her spouse began to show signs of mental disturbance, again, whom could she turn to? She had to work hard to keep the secret--he was a minister. People simply did not reveal any mental "weakness." These entries are a heart-rending cry for human contact.
The later journals are just about unreadable, they are so full of pain. They represent a vivid example of just how terrible untreated depression is, because she writes so well. The fact that the family decided to let go of this secret I hope will help people, just as the story about Anne has cheered so many girls over the past century.
Most are aware of her books, the most famous being the eponymous Anne-with-an-e. Many like the Emily series, some have real trouble with it for various reasons; I think the single other book I've seen most praise of is The Blue Castle. Montgomery's journals make fascinating reading. Though she edited them over and over, she kept the spirit of her teen years, and her young womanhood during a time of unrelenting change. She was a working girl for a while, at a newspaper, giving a vivid picture of what life was like; she had to wait for her marriage until her grandmother died, because women, especially unmarried ones, were expected to be live in nurses for older relatives, if the family couldn't afford servants.
She suffered all her life from what we now recognize as depression. You can see it early on in the journals, how she'd dread winter. She'd sit alone in her room writing long entries as she tried to scold and cheer herself into being busy and useful, meantime grandmother downstairs dealt with her own inner conflict by sticking to a rigid schedule: no fire lit before a certain date, no matter what the weather, every single bite of cake must be consumed no matter how dry and tasteless it was before Maud could bake a new cake, because waste was sinful. The long wintry evenings, grandma would read the Bible and sniffle over passages; she did not like company.
Not that the first two journals are all misery. She had a lot of fun, and paints a fascinating picture of life out west, then college, which she enthusiastically adored. Her flirts and friendships, family reunions, great dinners with lots of gossip, are all engagingly depicted. She took photos of her rooms, and her favorite walks, and houses.
There were two other events that seem to have fueled her depression. One, was her falling in "love" (lust) with the son of the people she was boarding with when a teacher. They sat in the downstairs parlor and necked secretly, and she then hated herself afterward. He wanted to sleep with her, she couldn't bring herself to go that far and still keep her self-respect. Meanwhile, she was engaged to a second cousin who was clever, wealthy, well-respected...and she discovered she was utterly unattracted to him physically. But in those days you could not voice such a reason for not marrying. She suffered miserably over that mess because she had no one to talk to, to help her sort out the differences between attraction and love. When she finally broke her engagement, the family all gave voice against her for willfulness, and he wrote her long, impassioned and angry letters that she dreaded for months.
She gives a vivid picture of frontier schoolteaching--one young girl being in charge of enormous schools, teaching all subjects, doing all the grunt work. and having to board with people, which meant one's private life was also under scrutiny by everyone in town. Not that single woman teachers were permitted to have much of a private life.
Like any human being, she's not always consistent. There are times when I think she was very aware of a possible future audience; the entries are so obviously rewritten, and full of very arch references to "modern women" (she, of course, scorning such behavior, being a traditional lady--and proud of it) yet she was determined to have an education, to have a career (teaching, then writing) and finally a pioneer in gaining rights for writers, taking her publisher to court.
When her best friend died in the big influenza epidemic, it shipwrecked her emotionally. For years after she would write about calling out to Frede, wondering if she was still present in some sense--though a minister's wife, she struggled with questions of faith, and had to hide that too, while presiding over grindingly boring missionary and sewing circle meetings--until one day a cat acted in a certain way, convincing her (for the moment) that Frede was indeed watching over her, just as they'd promised one another. She adored her animals as much as she adored nature; her favorite walks were (besides her journal) her anodyne to pain.
In between all these things she records her attempts to write, to send out, her first tiny successes (paid five dollars for stories, which would be about a hundred bucks today, was cause for joy), and how she dealt with success...and with being ripped off by her publishers because "ladies" don't sully their hands with "business". She enjoyed her early marriage. But when her spouse began to show signs of mental disturbance, again, whom could she turn to? She had to work hard to keep the secret--he was a minister. People simply did not reveal any mental "weakness." These entries are a heart-rending cry for human contact.
The later journals are just about unreadable, they are so full of pain. They represent a vivid example of just how terrible untreated depression is, because she writes so well. The fact that the family decided to let go of this secret I hope will help people, just as the story about Anne has cheered so many girls over the past century.