Such conclusions, it has to be emphasized, must still be based on the events that happened to one man. Styron was so in tune with his body and his moods and because he had been laboring so hard to arrange his life around his mood disturbances, he was also quite aware that his trip to Paris would be a problem. Many of these individuals eventually committed suicide. He must try to utter small talk, and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod and frown and, God help him, even smile. It is a testament to his stamina that, fending off the darkness yet again, he had the presence of mind to reassure his readers in the event of catastrophe.
I feel this author understands the aspects of this disease better than any other so-called expert in the field of psychiatry. Bloody and bowed by the outrages of life, most human beings still stagger on down the road, unscathed by real depression. When that President initiated the same tactics against me, I became frozen by anxiety, incapable of focus, unable to function. How long will the file be downloaded? آدم می ترسد که مبادا همه چیز را از دست بدهد. But certainly the hospital and, of course, I am speaking of the many good ones should be shorn of its menacing reputation, should not so often be considered the method of treatment of last resort. That December evening, for example, I could have remained in bed as usual during those worst hours, or agreed to the small dinner party my wife had arranged downstairs. But the event was given a further dimension of poignancy by what one must begin to regard as a predictable reaction from many: the denial, the refusal to accept the fact of the suicide itself, as if the voluntary act—as opposed to an accident, or death from natural causes—were tinged with a delinquency that somehow lessened the man and his character.
My former wife did not want to hear about it. William Styron's memoir of depression, began as an article he wrote for the December 1989 issue of 'Vanity Fair'. بیماری ای که نویسنده آن را برخلاف تصور دیگرانی که از بیرون می نگرند، «توفان مغزی» می نامند و از قول بودلر «صدای باد ِ بالهای جنون» می خواند. These thoughts may seem outlandishly macabre—a strained joke—but they are genuine. By far the great majority of the people who go through even the severest depression survive it, and live ever afterward at least as happily as their unafflicted counterparts. After studying at Presbyterian Davidson College, Styron enlisted in the Marine Corps, training to be an officer.
For in virtually any other serious sickness, a patient who felt similar devastation would by lying flat in bed, possibly sedated and hooked up to the tubes and wires of life-support systems, but at the very least in a posture of repose and in an isolated setting. Styron died in November 2006. Its a short book and for some reason I got a Kindle edition at a discount. I could no longer concentrate during those afternoon hours, which for years had been my working time, and the act of writing itself, becoming more and more difficult and exhausting, stalled, then finally ceased. Gold was to obtain help through pharmacology—though this too was, alas, a chimera for a bottomed-out victim such as I had become.
In my case, the overall effect was immensely disturbing, augmenting the anxiety that was by now never quite absent from my waking hours and fueling still another strange behavior pattern—a fidgety restlessness that kept me on the move, somewhat to the perplexity of my family and friends. Throughout my life I have been consumed by the fear of failure. Thinking that he was feeding his dream of becoming a writer, Styron took a job at McGraw-Hill publishers but resigned shortly. Styron reveals his self medication with alcohol, perhaps an addiction, though he never calls it alcoholism. اونم اینکه یه جهانبینیای بهت میده تا «ظلمتِ آشکار» رو بخونی و از توصیفاتِ شفاف و دقیقِ نویسنده عمیقاً لذت ببری و در عینِ حال احساس امیدواری و دلگرمی کنی. E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.
Alcohol was an invaluable senior partner of my intellect, besides being a friend whose ministrations I sought daily. Prozac came on the market about the time this book was published. For me, it was a captivating story and also a way to learn new things. برای تمامی کسانی که به افسردگی، ناراحتی و ناامیدی مدام دچارند و دنیایشان حتی گهگاه چنان سیاه، تیره و کبود میشود که نه تنها رنگ که نوری درش نفوذ نمیکند، حتی به نزدیکان و دوستانشان و بهتر بگویم به همه پیشنهاد میدهم این کتاب را بخوانند و در جایی نزدیک به خود نگه دارندش چرا که مدام باید به آن رجوع کرد. نه آن را شیک و نشانه روشنفکری دانسته نه از بستری شدن در بیمارستان هراسی داشته است. I read it during one of my own periods of depression, and for whatever reason I decided to pair it with The Bell Jar, and instead of feeling any sort of comfort or recognition in Styron's words, I just felt sort of angry. None were as deep and despairing as this last one.
کتاب را یک نفس خواندم. I felt my heart pounding wildly, like that of a man facing a firing squad, and I knew I had made an irreversible decision. The op-ed garnered positive reception and compelled many readers to openly speak about their experiences with depression, ultimately inspiring Styron to begin documenting his own ordeal. Note the very source of its title. Rather than it's downfall, the briefness of this book was perfect, as it meant that even one with difficulty concentrating could read and comprehend the text without feeling overwhelmed. The morning she died, I found myself lost once again. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come -- not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute.
It was to be a day of festivities. Styron and his rock, wife Rose, suffered through the luncheon, Styron unable to choke down hardly a bite. She has a child I've never met. He also discusses how every patient possesses a unique response to various treatments and how the success of a method on one individual does not guarantee its effectiveness on another. But I always got out in time.