Sanity is overrated.
— Gustav Hasford The Short-Timers
No fun times
Periods when I have to be highly efficient are often followed by days on which I can hardly get out of my mental mess; days when I ask myself why there is so much pain and suffering in this world and why so many of us have to go through sorrow and misery, just to exist somewhere on this planet, physically existing, while being surrounded by drought, war, destruction, poverty, illness, and abuse. There is an imbalance in this world that is beyond human understanding, yet it is the result of human actions, of greed, hate, anger, and ignorance.
You see what I’m getting at? This is one version of the recurrent emotional festival known as “My Demons Are Back”. The German term “Weltschmerz” would be an accurate description of my current mental health shit show. As Collins Dictionary describes Weltschmerz in its British translation, it’s a “sadness or melancholy at the evils of the world; world-weariness.”
This Weltschmerz of mine is not only rooted in the very real never-ending tragedy of global imbalances of power, wealth, and freedom but also the result of my academic work. And just like that, my demons are back…
Fictional. Factual. Actual war.
Starting with my high school diploma — for which I wrote about the history of the Second Indochine War/Vietnam War and the Anti-War-Movement in the US — I’ve had a focus on Vietnam War literature, eventually leading to me writing my diploma thesis on stereotypes and representation in Vietnam War literature, analyzing the works of Bao Ninh (The Sorrow of War), Tim O’Brien (The Things They Carried), Duong Thu Huong (Novel without a Name), and Gustav Hasford (The Short-Timers).
Moving from Vietnam War literature to the literature of the Iraq War — or “Operation Iraqi Freedom” and subsequent operations — I switched the focus of my studies from fictional literature to factual accounts — blog books or ‘blooks’ — while at the same time doing my best to keep up with the diverse literary output the Global War on Terror (GWOT) ‘creates.’ After all, one should read outside the dissertation box…
I’ve read about killing, being (nearly) killed, bodies blown apart, blown-off limbs, terror, torture, rape, abuse, destruction, and misery for more than 10 years now. Even though I also read “normal” books and take a break from war topics, rest assured that everyday international politics hardly give me a break. No matter if I want to take a step back for a few days, there is always something bringing me back to “my” work. War, terror, death, destruction.
Losses can be made good, damage can be repaired, and wounds will heal in time. But the psychological scars of the war will remain forever.
— Bao Ninh The Sorrow of War
Stop whining…
I love research work, I love to explore meanings, and ideas, I love to question standards, traditions, and all that stuff certain societies “agreed on” even though it is dangerous, questionable, and sometimes just plain stupid. But more often than not, especially during my dark days, I lose it all; I lose the distance to my work, this distance I desperately need, and I get angry as fuck. Angry with all sides involved in those struggles — myself included. I may not wage war in Syria, but I sure as hell profit from child labor and unsafe work conditions with everyday consumer goods I am using and purchasing.
Above all, I get frustrated. Like so many other unworldly, starry-eyed idealists who have the privilege of existing far away from war, misery, poverty, and any other real dangers, I so desperately want to help, improve, bring positive change, and do good. Yet I’ve learned that this is a common idea — and one that can turn dangerous. Meaning well has led to successful charity events, joint commitments that brought positive change, as well as disagreements and, eventually, wars.
Think the Crusaders were only in it for misery and dysentery? Still believe the Christmas Truce of World War I was the main event of the war because it’s such a heartwarming story? Sure that your god is an almighty being that needs to be part of your government, legislation, and judicial system no matter what? Hell, think again. ‘Meaning well’ is wonderful in itself but in reality, it seems to only work in certain contexts, rarely on a grand, or even international scheme of things. Hence my frustration. And anger. And desperation. Because so much I read and learn about is just not fair. And I’ve always had a hard time accepting that.
The ups and downs of mental health shenanigans
In the end, on those days, dark days filled with anger, rage, and a sort of total emotional overload, it is not about one side or the other; there are only losers in this game. It is about all the pain and destruction that all this hate and fear and anger bring into the world, pretty much everywhere. This is what I read about and work on constantly.
And I’m angry at myself for being such a wimpy whiner, crying about the stories I read and work on when there are people out there, thousands, millions of people, who have to live through this, who have to survive this in order to write about it, so a sissy Western scholar can create her own fucking drama around it. I am angry at myself for not being able to keep the professional distance I need to stay healthy and sane. Because we all need a certain distance, both professionally and personally. Otherwise, you’re losing time and energy cleaning up behind your oversensitive self. Or rather, I do.