I know I went on a rant yesterday about politics. I feel very conflicted about politics at the moment. I know that civil society depends on people campaigning for change, I just feel disenfranchised and not sure what to do. There was an interview in The Jewish Chronicle with Ian Austin, the former Labour MP who resigned in protest over antisemitism in the party and is now telling people to vote Conservative to keep Labour out because of their antisemitism problem. I think he did the right thing, but I’m not sure it’s going to make any difference. There isn’t a party that represents what I think, and I’m terrified by what some of the parties are campaigning for, particularly Labour, which has gone in the space of just a few years from a moderate social democratic party to rabidly antisemitic crypto-Marxist one (maybe not so crypto). Challenged about antisemitism, the standard response seems to be, “We aren’t antisemitic, there genuinely is a massive international Jewish-capitalist conspiracy that controls all Western governments and owns all the banks and media.” All said with no trace of irony (English or otherwise). I just feel a huge dread of what’s going to happen to our country, and the world, in the coming years.
I’m not sure I can really comment on politics objectively at the moment. I read an article by someone I used to be friends with and my disagreement with elements of his politics blends into my upset at the way he treated me personally, which had nothing to do with politics, but showed up his desire for brotherly love and treating people kindly as a bit of a sham. I don’t know how much my annoyance with him is political and how much is personal. Probably a bit of both, as I don’t think I disagree with his politics enough to explain this much of a negative response. But I don’t know. Can we ever truly separate the political and the personal? Should we? I really don’t know.
I put Twitter back on my blocked sites list for now. I just needed to get away from it. I may go and network on there at some point, but not at the moment.
I feel that dread in my own life too. I just can’t seem to get out of the depressed rut. I know what I should be doing to work on my life and my career, it’s just so hard to do it. I still feel a lot of social anxiety even after CBT and that’s holding me back along with the depression itself.
I woke feeling very depressed again today. It took me more than two hours to get up, eat breakfast and get dressed. I kept going back to bed and it was impossible to have the energy to get going. I davened (prayed) after lunch rather than before because I didn’t have the energy earlier. I hope this does not become a habit. I had a bit of religious OCD today too, wondering if some frozen microwave food in our freezer was really kosher even though I was fairly sure my Mum had told me she I had bought it from a kosher shop. I worried that I was mis-remembering and checked with her (which I shouldn’t do). Now I’m worried that the kosher shop made a mistake. I know my kashrut OCD flares up when I’m under stress, so that’s a sign that I’m not doing well at the moment.
I’ve been sucked into online procrastination again. I’m trying to apply for benefits, but the form is so dense and off-putting (probably deliberately). I felt agitated and on the brink of tears. I would fill in one or two boxes and then feel overwhelmed (by what?) and stop because I want to cry. I feel that my life is a mess and there’s nothing I can do about it, that the world is a mess and there’s even less I can do about it. I don’t want to be on benefits, but I can’t see myself getting any kind of job while I’m in this state, but I need structure and activity… The form asks for when my illness started and I don’t know what to put. 2003? 2000? Who knows by this stage?
In the end I gave up on the form and went for a twenty-five minute run in the cold and dark instead, which exhausted me, but gave me some respite from my negative thoughts, although I worried about politics most of the time, when I wasn’t worrying that every shadowy passer-by was a mugger (7.30pm is well after dark at the moment). I was exhausted when I got home even after a shower and dinner, but I worked on my novel for thirty or forty minutes. My concentration was poor, but I got through a difficult scene. I also managed ten or fifteen minutes of Torah study. I ate a Magnum ice cream, partly as a reward for getting through a difficult day, partly to keep me awake long enough to do a bit of Torah study. I know this will probably put back any weight I might have lost jogging, but I don’t really care. I had to get through the day somehow.
I do feel like I’ve really tearing myself apart about a lot of things lately, some obviously trivial (like whether it would be a betrayal of my values to watch James Bond films), some genuinely worrying (the election). I strongly suspect the trivial and maybe even the serious worries are standing in for something else, or are a return of clinical anxiety, which I’ve never been good at identifying in myself.
Ashley Leia commented on my last post to say it must be exhausting hiding my life from my religious community, but I’ve been hiding all my life. At school it was hard to know which of my interests would be OK and which would be a target for the bullies, but Doctor Who was resolutely unfashionable; even at the more mature age of being an undergraduate, people stared at me in amazement or laughed when it emerged that I was a fan (this was before the relaunch of the programme and its return to popularity).
In terms of enjoyment, I’m wondering if I’m not enjoying things at the moment or if I’m just reading/watching/listening to the wrong things. Over the last few weeks I’ve listened to some Doctor Who audio books and audio dramas. A couple were good, but most weren’t. I’ve never been able to get into these audios and I’m not sure why. Some of it is probably difficulty concentrating on audio when I’m depressed, but I’ve been equivocal about these even when not depressed.
I’m also reading volume three of the complete short stories of Philip K. Dick. Dick is one of my favourite authors, but I’m struggling to connect with the stop/start pace of reading short stories and having to understand a new set of characters and a new world with each story (“new world” literally, given that these are science fiction stories) so I might switch to a novel.
On the other hand, I started watching The Prisoner again, for the umpteenth time. I don’t know if it’s autism, but I can watch my favourite things over and over without getting bored, but be really apprehensive about watching or reading anything new unless I’m very confident that I’m going to enjoy it and not be upset by it. Watching The Prisoner is probably a bit dangerous for me. For those who don’t know, The Prisoner was an espionage/science fiction series from the sixties. A British spy resigns from his job and wakes up in a strange Village where people are numbers. He wants to escape, the authorities want to find out why he resigned (that’s just the title sequence). They only made seventeen episodes, which, alongside star/co-creator/executive producer/sometime writer and director Patrick McGoohan’s significant input gives the whole thing an auteured feel unusual in British TV of that era.
The reason it’s dangerous for me is that it deals with issues of individuality, conformism, freedom and so on and I respond strongly to it, probably too strongly. While Doctor Who is my favourite TV series, The Prisoner is the one I connect to most emotionally. I discovered the series when I was at university, when I was at my most depressed, and in my head Oxford and the Village became one, as did the Prisoner’s loneliness and struggle for agency and my own. As with Kafka and Dick, the casual surrealism reflected the way I experience life, which often seems disturbing and illogical (this may be the result of autism, but maybe not). The final episode, which suggests the Prisoner may literally be his own worst enemy only adds to my emotional connection with it, as well as my self-hatred. The reading of The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, that “The Prisoner who continues to resist brainwashing may have brainwashed himself into a prison of the mind. The series’ thesis may thus be that freedom is impossible, as is opting out” is something that resonates a lot with me. I do wonder if I’m my own worst enemy, and I do want to drop out of society while simultaneously seeing dropping out as both impossible and immoral.
I can see the Oxford parallels with the Village; in the years when I was too depressed to study or work, I could see parallels with the apparently endless therapeutic process and the byzantine bureaucracy of the benefits system; nowadays I can see the parallels with my position in the Jewish community, and the Jewish community’s position in the country. Watching the first episode, Arrival, tonight, what I noticed more than before is the way the Village infantilises people to make them placid and docile; there are real-world examples with the market and the state, but what resonated with me today was my illness infantilising me.
The Prisoner is a very fun series to watch, from a time when British TV could deal with serious issues in a popular way without becoming condescending or self-important and self-righteous, and was able to question its own values. There was a six-part American remake miniseries ten years that wasn’t nearly as fun, although it did have its good points. And that’s without getting into the non-political readings, that the Prisoner is dead and stuck in Purgatory or a cycle of reincarnations. It’s a series you can really immerse yourself in.
(And I haven’t even mentioned the enigmatic, silent, butler or the weird Rover weather balloon robot guards or the use of diegetic use of music or the jokes or the theme music or the way the Prisoner/McGoohan (never has it been easier to blur the lines between character and actor) loses it at someone or something in most episodes or the fact that it’s a TV programme with it’s own font or, or, or…)
Be seeing you!