In order to truly enjoy something, it has to have some context. It has to be shared. That's why people try not to eat alone or go to the movies alone. It loses its context. And that is the dilemma of my life. I lack context. I have all these emotions... is it hate or love or envy? I can't quantify or measure it. It's like a commercial: it happens, it's over, it meant nothing, and it's forgotten.
When we talk about anhedonia in the clinical sense, this is not it, but I wonder sometimes if this is real anhedonia. Everything is bland and grey and lacking passion, not memorable at all.
I'm not depressed, although my friends seem to think it's within the realm of possibility. I just feel like my life needs more context.
3 comments:
you seem to find alot of context in medicine....but perhaps you focus so much attention (if not ALL) your attention on the "context" of medicine, that you unconsciously ignore the "context" that exist in other things/people in your life.
Personally, I've never tried to avoid eating or going to the movies alone. I prefer going by myself, tasting the food, taking in the experience. All I'm trying to say is, it is possible for things to BE their own context.
I'm med student, and I have lived alone for years. I used to be miserable, but I've discovered there's something of an art to it -- Enjoying things for their own sake, becoming intimate with yourself, that sort of thing. You don't have to share something for it to be real and juicy and colorful. At least, that's been my experience
I have been experiencing depression for the majority of my life and I can definitely relate to feeling a lack of context. I am a loner, although certainly not by choice. But I know it has to do with my personality, along with specific circumstances and experiences that began long ago in early childhood. Time slips by uncontrollably and so damn quickly with daily routine. It is especially true when personal time is spent perpetually alone. Over the years, all of the time spent by myself watching television, browsing/posting on internet forums, exercising, eating, running errands at various stores, etc. is certainly not memorable or worth reminiscing. All I feel is a vacuous void. Pure emptiness and the pains of regret;fantasizing false memories of what 'could have been'. The pain is so great, it is not measurable or describable because there is nothing I know to compare it against. I am only alive today because I know killing myself will be as forgotten and meaningless as my entire life has been.
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