Many have met a human with emotional disconnect. Cold hands, blank stares, and bland responses are all that we receive after speaking our opinions or sharing our thoughts. Perhaps it is a parent or maybe it is the person we have shared our “I dos” with. This interaction is very disheartening to anyone who feels strongly and loves with all their might. A relationship like this could cause a person to become………. melancholy.
Melancholy is a particularly favorite word of mine. The word “melancholy” finds its roots in ancient Greek medicine. The term is derived from the Greek words melas (black) and khole (bile). These words are part of the four-humor theory of medicine proposed by Hippocrates. According to this theory, an imbalance of black bile in the body caused an individual to experience feelings of sadness. This feeling was then labeled “melancholia.” This concept, while archaic in modern medical understanding, permeated European thought for centuries.
During the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, “melancholy” became more than a medical term. It transformed into a poetic expression of sorrow or pensive sadness. This was often linked to intellectual or creative pursuits. Figures like Shakespeare and John Milton explored melancholy as a complex emotional state. They highlighted its presence in the human condition. By the 18th and 19th century, melancholia had become a cultural lexicon. Poets celebrated it as a romanticized state of mind. It was linked to creative genius and personal reflection. Described as bittersweet and wistful.
In the late 19th and early 20th century, psychiatry and psychology rose in prominence. Melancholy became dominated by new names. These new names included “depression” and “sadness.” By the mid 20th century, melancholy became all but vintage. “Anxiety” and “depression” became official in the books. Antidepressants were pushed into every saddened hand.
As a child of trauma, and a woman with anxiety, it is never pleasant. Filling my weekly medication container is difficult. The numerous mind numbing toxins in the capsules and compressed powders are supposed to make me “happy” again. However, they flood my mind with grief and dependency. It was daunting to try to communicate with people who were supposed to “love” me growing up. They showed no emotion in return. Now, as an adult, I attempt to formulate my emotions. It is still difficult when there is little to no return of emotion from others.
If your condition is public and you become upset, you are seen as erratic. If you are overwhelmed, you are seen as a shutout. If you mention your needs more than once, you are a nag. To have sadness, is to be debilitating. It is to be broken. No person can just be sad anymore.
I am not condoning anyone to drop your medication. I would be a completely different person if I missed one dosage. I do wonder what these medications are doing to my state of mind. With every increase or addition, I feel as though I lose a piece of my original self. I feel as though I am just going through the motions of living. Wake up, complete tasks of adulting and parenting, go to bed, wake up, do it all over again. Occasionally still having spouts of sadness in between the motions. Sometimes having moments of happiness in between the motions. “I beg your pardon. I never promised you a rose garden.” Inspiration struck while hearing this song in the car, and made me think,” No one says melancholy anymore!”
I reverted back to all the moments I had been described as “sad,” “depressed,” “anxious,” or “overwhelmed.” It would have sounded much sweeter or poetic to have been called melancholy. A condition that was once used to describe inspiration is now used to describe broken and debilitated.