The Many Errors in Thinking About Mistakes

I really loved this article and the reader responses.

It reminds me of the upside of living with illness ~ you mess up.
You can never be perfect or live to your full potential, but you still have to try.

Life itself is a risk.

And the things that would or should be scary pale in comparison to the things you've survived.

No one can fault you (at least not down to the bone) for the places and parts of your life where things have gone to pieces.

It just happens.

Then you pick up the pieces or you start over from scorched earth and you move on.

I'm not saying it's easy.

It's HELL.

There are times when suicide is the most rational option. And for very good reason.

But in return, you learn how to fall.

You learn how to be imperfect.

You learn that mistakes don't constitute flaws or failure.

And you learn that you're strong. That you persevere.

And you never live in fear of failure.

You have got to be kidding me....

Since the Boston Globe doesn't have have a permalink function, I can't link to this article. Instead, I've reprinted it with the Boston Globe copyright intact.

I miss my depression
By Tim Bugansky

November 20, 2007

TEL AVIV

AUTUMN visited Israel recently. The temperature sank, chilly rain spattered the streets, the wind tossed the trees to and fro. As I sat outside on the porch one night, I found my mind yanked back to Ohio, and I was struck by a familiar pang of sadness - and I missed, achingly, the decade when I was clinically depressed.

The irony of depression - for me, at least - was that it made me feel a pervasive sadness that pierced my heart like frigid, jagged glass, but it also made me feel supremely alive. Depression isolated me within myself, yet through its ever-present melancholy, it also made me feel completely connected to the world.

Anything had the potential to envelop me in tentacles of despondency: a parking lot at dusk; illuminated living rooms on dark city streets with families moving about inside; an elderly man hobbling through a store all by himself; train tracks disappearing into the distance.

These were amplified by the gracefully turbulent decay that accompanies autumn in Ohio, where I have spent most of my life. Brisk breezes bore reminders that life is fleeting. The moon hung morosely above cornfields. Brittle leaves crunched resoundingly like fragile hearts underfoot.

Amidst the crushing poignancy, I was also more creative, more perceptive, more in tune with the world. I can remember entire weeks when I was depressed more clearly than I can remember the particulars of any one day last week. Although days were interminable back then, they were also alive and palpable, bursting with beautiful futility.

It's been four years now since I began a course of treatment, swallowing daily a white pill that changes not only my brain chemistry, but also the very ways I perceive the world, the ways the world affects me. Besides all the questions antidepressants raise about reality and perception, "mental illness" and normalcy, my personal reality is that I am different now. Antidepressants altered my existence.

I eat and sleep more regularly. I can now get sad without venturing into the borderlands of despair. I can get happy without that happiness seeming like the gleaming tip of an iceberg - full of splendor at the surface, but dwarfed by the hulking dark mass of potential disappointment beneath.

I don't mean to glorify depression. Had I not taken those little white pills, I would probably have become seriously ill, more and more troubled, increasingly incapable of living in a world constructed by and for the "normal." There is no question that depression can and does hurt people, both the depressed and those around them.

But while depression is often portrayed or understood in simple terms, it is more than just an affliction. Its complexity is all the more apparent to me now that it is absent from my life; yet the memory of it can still transport me from the edge of the Middle Eastern desert to the American heartland.

And I wonder - as I sit outside on quiet nights and sense the seasons shifting and wish that I could "feel" the phenomenon like I used to - I wonder how many others like me are out there in the world, wandering through their own private autumns, fortunate to be alive today yet missing the brilliant sadness of the past.

Tim Bugansky, a writer and teacher in Israel, is author of "Anywhere But Here." He wrote this column for the International Herald Tribune.

© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.

Personally, I find this Op-Ed insulting, naive, ignorant and repulsive. It is completely lacking in respect for anyone who struggles and survives a life with real depression.

Those people know the numbing effect of a disease that, to paraphrase a talk* given by William Styron, causes the brain so much pain that it is incapable of doing anything but enumerate its own suffering.

It's odd, at best, that the Globe would choose to print such an article just one day after it printed a science piece on new research showing that depression may cause degeneration of the hippocampus, the part of the brain believed to have an essential role in memory. Further, the use of SSRIs (a class of anti depressants) may actually regenerate neurons in the hippocampus.

Take a moment to soak that in. Depression is connected to the part of the brain that controls memory. Memory, say, of the things that usually bring a person happiness and pleasure.

So, while the rest of us are in some fog ~ all joy, beauty, and interest forgotten. Some even feeling so numb with lack of emotion that they harm themselves just to feel. Mr. Bugansky is experiencing life on a new ultrasensory level.

Mr. Bugansky, I'd like you to meet Mr. Frey. The two of you will be spending a long, long time together in a place we call a Special Hell. This one is reserved for lying liars who lie.



*This talk was given at a symposium at Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions in the mid to late 1980s and later became the basis for Styron's memoir Darkness Visible. The particular quote I refer to did not make it from the speech to the manuscript, but remains one of my favorite pieces of prose from his talk.

Those Low Grades in College May Haunt Your Job Search

A young applicant’s G.P.A. is the best single predictor of job performance in the first few years of employment.

This is from an article published in the New York Times on December 31, 2006. [see link above]

Oddly not, April 1, 2007.

As I approach my 15 year college reunion, let me offer a few random thoughts on this...

HA!

Seriously???

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

In the last fifteen years I don't remember ANYONE asking about my college GPA. I think graduate school may have wanted the transcript, but that was it. And you know honestly, the fact the I GRADUATED from such an ACADEMICALLY CHALLENGING college was more than enough.

Here's the real truth: Once you get a graduate degree, no one even wants to see your undergraduate transcript. They just want to see proof of your highest degree.

Now if I were a bit less honest and didn't believe that with complete certainty that I would get caught, I would take advantage of this and make my undergraduate years a bit more interesting... I'm sure four years in Palo Alto would have been more fun than the four I spent in Baltimore (seriously, who gets mugged in Palo Alto???), but I'm just not going to go there. (And seriously, who would actually question it? Like I've ever interviewed with an actual Stanford graduate???? Like I've ever even interviewed with a Hopkins grad??? PLEASE!)

But this is what I love about the article. The guy who is the great authority on GPA predicting job performance hires for such industry giants as the Home Shopping Network, Ticketmaster and Match.com!!! Remind me again, are those Fortune 100 or Fortune 500? And they employ highly skilled, really intelligent individuals to do things like.... okay, I'm drawing a blank on the very important services they provide without which our nation would crumble... Right, over priced tickets, sub quality products for shut-ins and shopaholics with credit cards, TVs and telephones and, of course, dating opportunities for computer geeks, potential stalkers and xenophobes (present company included ~ xenophobe, if you must know). What would we do without them?

Meanwhile, those Fortune 500 companies will probably continue hiring using the tried and true standards they've used for centuries. Nepotism never hurt, even Jane Austen recognized that one. And a perfect GPA from some crappy college isn't going to even get you in the door, honey, because the big boys choose who to recruit. They go directly to the schools from which they want their staff to come.

Why do you think you hear about students at Brown protesting the CIA recruiters on campus but you never hear about students at West Podunk Community College doing the same? Is it because the students at WPCC are less organized, liberal and politically aware? Quite possibly. But more likely, it's because the CIA isn't recruiting at WPCC since, among other reasons, they don't have a programs in applied mathematics (or as the cool kids call it "apple math") or advances languages.

And as far as the ridiculous [RIDICULOUS] notion that there is some correlation between intelligence and GPA ~ first let me suggest that everyone involved in this article had excellent GPAs but could never quite test their way into MENSA ~ now that my juvenile jibing has satisfied, wait, who am I kidding? These people are frickin' morons!!!

Albert Einstein failed math. Kurt Vonnegut failed college English. Obliviously these grades reflect their lack of intellect. Get over yourselves! Once you're too old for your parents to post your report card on the fridge, it no longer matters.

"Truth #147: No one really cares about your GPA."

I had that postcard posted on my door throughout most of college. While my roommate attended offices hours, had TAs and professors read drafts of papers, kissed asses and collected copies of other students' notes all in a grand effort to make sure her B+ or A- would be an A, I quietly lost respect for her. In my land of ultra-integrity, she had crossed the line of "earning" those grades. In fact, she was taking up vital resources (the time and energy of the TAs and professors, the goodwill of other students) that should have be allocated to students who were really struggling with the course material, not that the culture of the university would ever allow someone to make that admission ~ the shame would be far too great.

So, in my mind, the great GPAs began to take on a completely different meaning. Not one of the student who has superior understanding, does superior work and shows superior skill, but of the student who works the system, kisses the asses and plays the game. None of those things were worthy of reward in my mind. They demonstrated a lack of character, an almost sociopathic narcissism. And those few people who did receive their GPA based on superior skills and work were completely lacking in social skills or the ability to interact with other people, mostly since they had spent the past four years in the underground library to compete against the students who were working the system.

Any way you look at it you lose.

Let's return then to reality. We'll all admit something to ourselves and to God ~ I never did want to work for Ticketmaster, the Home Shopping Network or Match.com. And as my uncle Billy (who graduated last in his electrical engineering program at Cornell, and who I should mention has made a killing in the stock market,) once told me, the guy with the highest GPA and the guy with the lowest GPA walk away with the exact same diploma. (This is best NOT to consider when selecting a physician...)

NO ONE CARES WHAT YOUR GPA WAS!