The recent “epidemic” of “depression” is one of my biggest beefs with society today. People are actually gaining exposure from making whiny, longwinded articles for massive media outlets talking about their PTSD induced by overly strict parenting and schoolyard bullying. How can this be happening? When did our culture turn around and show its underbelly to the big mean world? Moaning and whimpering we flock in droves to our underpaid doctors and leech antidepressant pills out of an NHS in crisis, and then feel even more sorry for ourselves as a result because our “needs” and “desires” were not “met appropriately”.
When I myself was a moody teen, I used to wish I’d had a rougher life just so’s I could complain more legitimately. Today I see that such fantasies are no longer necessary, because now everyone’s complaint is valid and worthy not only of consideration, but thorough compensation, too. Hooray! What a shame (read: thank God) I outgrew that stage before I could exploit it.
Our middle-class first world has officially become overly comfortable. Far too full of humourless, well-off, middle-class babies are getting showered with attention for describing their “symptoms” in a semipoetic and fully public way. I think maybe this little epidemic is maybe a little touch overhyped. In fact, calling it “depression” only became fashionable about 40 years ago.