Author: Making Lemonade
Apparently the five-year Nazi occupation of the Netherlands didn’t go over so well with the Dutch. Weird, huh? And, for some strange reason, when the German and Dutch football teams get together there isn’t any love lost.
I didn’t give a damn about the score. 1-0 was enough, as long as we could humiliate them. I hate them. They murdered my family. My father, my sister, two of my brothers. Each time I faced Germany I was angst-filled – Wim van Hanegem
Just a few months ago I turned down an invitation to see the Dutch play football in Amsterdam. It was for good reason though – I was busy ordering room service and watching a sub-titled episode of Saved by the Bell – while crying in my hotel room. That was a more
productive use of my time, no?
But, I’m not here to talk politics or football – although, I have to say that the Nazi occupation was a pretty dick move, Germany. I am here, however, to figure out which country to bitch slap for my genes. And, let’s be clear here. I’m a relatively ‘healthy’ human being – so, I say this with sarcasm and humility.
I’m a little bit of a research junkie – or a flaming dork. So, when I finally figured out what the fuck was going on with me – and that took a while – I wanted to research the crap out of it. As if I could will this shit away with my mind. At this point, I’m fairly educated on depression. I don’t pretend to understand all the scientific shit – but, I sure as hell read through it and take some good notes.
Most people tend to think that depressives are at fault for their disease. I spent a ridiculous amount of time blaming myself for my feelings. For my inability to function like the rest of the happy fuckers I see walking down the street. For a long time, I believed I was a worthless piece of shit – I couldn’t think or will myself back to health. And, believe me, I tried.
So, the ridiculous amount of reading and research I did on the topic was actually good for me in some respects. I finally came to the realization that some of this shit is out of my control. And, when the next asshole tells me that I should just try eating a Paleo diet to fix my depression, I can respond similar to Therese:
“Listen, dude, you don’t think I know that? I only run six miles a day, soak in as much sun as the cancer experts will let me, practice mindful meditation, try every relaxation technique in the book, spend hours on cognitive-behavioral worksheets, scribble in my gratitude and mood journal, reach out to other depressives, take ten vitamins and minerals every morning plus six omega-3 soft-gel capsules, participate in support groups, and work on my 12-step program in order to coax every single neurotransmitter in my brain into action and rejuvenate nerve endings in specific circuits of my brain. Do you have any idea how hard I work to stay sane?” – Therese Borchard
So, is depression genetic? I have no fucking idea – but, some of those smart scientists tend to think so. It is thought that genes contribute to about 40% of the risk of developing depression.
A small sense of relief – I can blame my family!! Kidding. Kind of. I never spent too much time dissecting my family’s history — specifically related to major depression. How I ignored this for so long is beyond me. Actually, it doesn’t surprise me. It took me thirty years to figure out that my 30th birthday came only a few months after my parent’s 30th wedding anniversary. Scandal!
So, I did some Sherlock Holmes detective shit. And by that, I mean a sketched a family tree. I then said to myself – holy fucking crap. A couple of, and thankfully failed, suicide attempts. Major depressives. And, a bunch of alcoholics – some jolly; others, not so much.
And, that brings me back to my original question – should I bitch slap the Germans or the Dutch? To be fair, I don’t know too much about my father’s side of the family – the Dutch. Clearly, I have more to work with on my Mom’s side of the family – the Germans. But, if I had to pick a clear winner … Sorry, Germany – you’ve been slapped.
Plus, the Dutch are so damn friendly – how can you really fault them for anything? So, here’s to moving to Amsterdam and bitch slapping Munich.
It’s a manic world.