Whelp, I dug up the test used here, and got a score of 27. So it’s probable I am actually still depressed about the whole PhD situation. Coupled with what I think is moderate anxiety, and yeah, I need to go see my GP. I think this time I will be asking for meds, because seriously, fuck this, this isn’t normal.
I grew up in a culture of relative stoicism. We’re the people who always reply to, “How’re you?” with, “Fine, thanks.” Fine was code for, “There is no immediate emergency.” You only ommitted fine if there was something your questioner needed to leap up and do right away: “The house is on fire.” “I’m wet and freezing cold and need a towel and a lukewarm bath.” “An axe-murderer is chasing me up the walk, shut the door.” Otherwise you don’t make a fuss—you’re okay. You’re doing well. You’re hanging in. We’re all fine here. How are you?
My family’s trying to break this trend, but oh, it’s hard. We have the hideous urge to downplay and gloss over, to appear strong and keep from alarming other people. It can be hard to leave each other the spaces to elaborate: I’m fine, but. It takes courage to squeeze more words out.
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