I do suffer from depression, I suppose. Which isn’t that unusual. You know, a lot of people do. —Amy Winehouse
The plight of the suffering artist is more than cliché. Depression is real, and we’re more creative because of it
I’m not sure that I have known any artist, regardless of their medium or level of skill, or financial success, that hasn’t battled with depression. Some more frequently than others, perhaps. Some seem to live in that state to such a degree I’m not sure they could function otherwise. All of us, though, endure those depressive periods where all seems hopeless.
Tales of great beauty and art coming out of depressive fits are cliché. Could Hemingway have written Old Man and the Sea if he’d been sober the whole time? Would the songs of Amy Winehouse have struck such a deep chord if she had been happier and more “well-adjusted?” Coming up with examples of famous creatives who had their bouts with depression is about as easy as walking into Starbucks and ordering coffee: you have plenty of choices.
Those stories are all anecdotal at best, though, if not somewhat apocryphal. Is there actual science behind this theory, and is our depression for the better or the worst? One of the books I’ve read this summer is Imagine: How Creativity Works  by Jonah Lehrer. There is much in this book that I might reference at another time, but what strikes me most this morning is his chapter dealing with drug use and depression among creatives. What is generally perceived as antisocial behavior may, from a scientific standpoint, be part of the very thing that makes us creative.
Needing Inspiration
Lehrer approaches the subject of creative depression by examining how creative inspiration develops in the brain. He notes that observation of “sadness” among creatives has been observed for centuries, even as far back as Aristotle, who said:
… all men who have attained excellence in philosophy, in poetry, in art and in politics, even Socrates and Plato, had a melancholic habitus; indeed some suffered even from melancholic disease.”
If all creatives have this problem with “melancholia,” however, how do we turn that into something creative? Â The answer lies in how that depression causes us to focus. Our perspective during moments of depression, especially when things are at their absolute worst, puts us in a position to see solutions we would not otherwise consider.
Joe Forgas, a psychologist at the University of New South Wales has demonstrated multiple times that moments of depression “sharpens the spotlight of attention, allowing us to become more observant and persistent.” To some degree, one might even say that the state of melancholia forces us into a creative place because it is necessary for us to survive.
Depressive Determination
Is depression absolutely a critical part of creativity? Not in every case, of course. Still, there is a lot of evidence that it is periods of sadness and worry, both long and short, that lead us to create a perfect masterpiece. Nancy Andreasen, a neuroscientist at the University of Iowa in the early 80s, found that  80 percent of writers met the diagnostic criteria for depression. Why?
Because being creative isn’t easy. Nietzsche, in Human, All Too Human, referenced the notebooks of composer Ludwig van Beethoven noting the countless revisions he would make to his compositions. Over and over and over he would work a phrase until it was exactly what he wanted to hear. What came across to the public as inspired genius was actually the result of hours of dedicated, highly skilled work. Granted, it was the work of a musical genius, but the fits of melancholia he suffered, his fear of failure and rejection, drove him to refine this work until there were no errors.
Too often, I think, we expect creativity to just come flowing out from us like turning on a tap. We don’t stop to think that those hours spent filling in the details, proofing and re-proofing a text, editing and re-editing and even re-re-editing an image, are all just as much a part of the creative process as the initial  burst of putting something on paper, or canvas, or pixels.When we are depressed, it is actually easier for us to linger over a piece of art, a line of poetry, or a phrase of music and play with it until we have it just right.
No Romance
Being creative isn’t all this romantic smarminess that one imagines might come with public acceptance of one’s work. Creatives have for centuries relied on drugs, alcohol, and sex to fuel them through the struggle and pain of the creative process. Our work is more than just a moment of inspiration. Once we have an idea or concept, it can be a prolonged battle to actually turn that idea into something ready for public consumption.
Creatives are, as a group, highly disturbed individuals. Lehrer references recent research by Hagop Akiskal showing that “nearly two-thirds of a sample of influential European artists were bipolar.” We swing between that moment of “Aha! I have an idea,” and the malaise of depression that comes with actually following through on that idea. Not all of us make it. Many wonderful projects are dropped because the emotional and/or mental pain of seeing them through is too great. We chase our depression with more drugs, more alcohol, and our addiction to the high that comes with the moment of inspiration ultimately kills us. We overdose looking for that next perfect music hook, or that next great lyric, or that next world-changing photograph.
Creative life isn’t easy. We need encouragement. We need camaraderie. We need places that are safe for us to work through the details. We need friends who understand this process, this whole thing about being creative has the power to kill us if not kept in check. The shadow is always looking, waiting to drag us to the depths.
Creative depression that becomes too severe can ruin us. We lose sight of what we were creating. The pain prevents the work from being done. We need help, not just from professionals (though, that is certainly an option more of us should consider), but from a supportive community, both online and in person, that has the ability to understand and be supportive.
Creativity can kill, but it doesn’t have to. Â Now that we understand a little better, perhaps we can be more communicative in being and finding that support we all need.
I Can’t Help You
We cannot teach people anything; we can only help them discover it within themselves. —Galileo Galilei
We always try to help others, but there are times when there’s nothing more we can do.
If you follow us on Facebook, you might have noticed that we rescued a couple of kittens over the weekend. We didn’t feel that we had any choice. They had been dropped off at a neighbor’s house early last week, not even old enough to be fully weened. With temperatures high and the neighbors going out of town for the weekend, to have left them there would have almost certainly been a death sentence.
Catching them wasn’t easy. They had learned quickly how to scamper away and hide from danger. Kat was able to catch one, a girl, almost by accident last Friday. It would be two more days of frequent attempts before she would catch the second. They were dehydrated, hungry, and scared. We brought them in, bathed them, gave them food and love, and are carefully nursing them back to health. The little girl is doing well, but the little boy still has a ways to go.
There are times in our lives when we are like those kittens: alone, helpless, defenseless, and nowhere to turn. Left on our own, many of us might die.  Homeless statistics show that hundreds die every year just from being out in the elements day after day. While there are many wonderful people and organizations who try to help, though, there are always those who fall between the cracks.
Flawed Philosophies
I’ve been there, living out of my car, or living on the street, thankful for friends who made sure I ate occasionally, or got a shower every once in a while. Needing such a severe degree of help is humiliating. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to be in that position. Yet, it happens more often than anyone realizes. Even those who gather statistics on the homeless realize there are more that are not counted, perhaps twice as many, as there are those  known.
Help is there for some, but not for all. The general philosophy of most aid organizations, and certainly that of government agencies, is that little to no help is available as long as one appears to have any resources of their own. One local well-known shelter requires that one be completely homeless, on the street with absolutely no other option, for at least 24 hours before they offer any assistance. When these organizations do offer help, the aid comes with a long list of rules, some of which require exposure to proselytizing efforts.
This “strings attached” approach of helping assumes that people will take advantage of any generosity that is not carefully managed, and I’m sure there are several people who might do so. However, such a philosophy hurts those who are genuinely in need. Â Not everyone can wait another 24 hours. Not everyone can attend the worship service. Not everyone can jump through the hoops. As a result, thousands fall through the cracks and go without help.
Applying Compassion
A couple of years ago, we were downtown for some large-scale event and had purchased food from one of the event’s vendors. Kat’s food came with pickles that she didn’t really want. So, she removed the pickles, wrapped them in a napkin so as to avoid making a mess, and then set them on top of an already full trash can. Almost immediately, a man who appeared to have not bathed in a while unfolded the napkin and picked the pickles out of the trash.
Kat didn’t hesitate. There was more than enough change from our meal to pay for another. She took the change, placed it in the man’s hands, and encouraged him to buy something more than pickles.
The look on his face was one of surprise. He hadn’t asked anyone for help. He wasn’t panhandling. He wasn’t expecting anyone to give him anything.
Kat acted out of compassion. She didn’t ask him any background questions. She didn’t invite him to a support group or a religious meeting. There was no waiting period. She saw  an opportunity to help and took it, filling a gap others missed.
Compassion-based programs do exist, but they’re few and far between and woefully underfunded. Many potential donors feel the organizations are reckless with their money because they act first and inquire later. Yet, if real need is to be addressed, compassion is the only attitude that is genuinely effective.
The Pain of Saying No
How many times have I heard the words, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you?” Sometimes they were said in anger that I had requested a service the person or agency didn’t want to provide. Some were incredulous that I had even asked them to do anything, such as donate to a charity or support an environmental cause. There are plenty of people who simply don’t want to help anyone, ever.
For those who have an ounce of compassion, however, turning anyone away for any reason, no matter how legitimate that reason might be, comes with pain. I’ve seen government agency workers cry because a mother who was desperately in need of food for her infant was not, on paper, destitute enough to meet the agency’s qualifications. I’ve seen some aid workers break their organization’s rules and give out of their own pockets to someone unable to jump through the hoops.
When one sees a real need and can’t help, turning people away can physically hurt. Yet, when resources are limited, or non-existent, there may be no choice than to utter those fateful words. One might exhaust all they have and still there would be need.
A Different Direction
Perhaps one of the most difficult situations is when we see someone who needs help but doesn’t want help, or doesn’t realize they need the help. The kittens were certainly in that predicament. While we could see they were starting and in need of immediate intervention, they were frightened and suspicious of anyone who came close. Catching them and helping them was, for the kittens, a moment of trauma.
People are not necessarily different. Not everyone sees the imminent danger they’re in because the circumstances give them a distorted perspective. Some have been hurt by those claiming to help. Some are addicted to medicines that were intended to help but now hurt. Helping these people can be almost impossible and traumatic. Yet, they need people  who don’t judge them, who don’t preach to them, but just help.
Too many rules, people trying to turn assistance and help into a profit-making scheme, requirements for insurance and some source of income, make it impossible for those on the margins to get help. We are sentencing them to death every time we say those words, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”
No End In Sight
Ending this article is difficult because there is no end to the problem. For every kitten we are able to save, dozens more die from malnutrition and neglect. For every person we feed, hundreds more are starving. There is no end.
Yet, we continue to do what we can. By tomorrow, we may need help ourselves. Nothing is certain. Even the best of intentions sometimes fail. As we are helping others, the thought creeps into the back of our minds, “Will anyone be there when we need help?” The prospects of how alone we might be in such a situation motivate us to help those already there.
We can’t heal all the world’s hurts, address everyone’s most urgent needs, on our own. We know that. We give help to both humans and animals when we encounter them and have the ability to do something right then. We try to not be the ones who push people off to government or religious organizations. We especially try to not say, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” We do our best to give real help to real need.
What about you? If I asked you for help today, what would be your response? Think about it and then look around you. Someone close needs your help. Don’t be the one who turns them away.
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