tl;dr: talking about feelings is hard in any language, but easier in many? "Facing depression is a little like looking at the self in translation. " “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” 2 Corinthians 11:30If you speak Spanish at all, you know that there are two Spanish translations for the English verb “to be:” “ser” and “estar.” These words are the bane of many a high school freshman’s existence, but the distinction between them is actually fairly simple. “Ser” you use for conditions of being that are essentially permanent — “I am from the U.S.,” “puppies are cute,” “Yemeni food is delicious." The other use, which is admittedly confusing, is for time expressions (“it’s 3 am and I still haven’t fallen asleep yet, wtf”). “Estar,” on the other hand, is the “to be” verb you say when you want to describe a temporary condition. “I am underdressed, I am bored, and I am contemplating ordering a pizza." In Arabic, when you want to describe how you "are," you probably use the verb “to feel.” That might seem intuitive, but in English, as shown previously, we usually stick with "to be." Sure, you could say “I feel happy” in English, but odds are you’d say “I am happy” or “Why are you mad?” Even for the times in Arabic when you don’t use "feel" and instead say "is/are," you would at least form the subsequent adjective in a grammatical way that makes clear that this feeling is not a fixed characteristic of the person being described, but rather a position they're caught in temporarily. You might "be" mad or sad or tired, but only for now. I find this distinction very interesting. In Arabic especially, how we feel is plainly not who we are, even when we sometimes fudge the difference in our words. If I were a slightly different person, less intimidated by the many roadblocks to successful scientific inquiry into Babel, I would be curious to research how this subtle linguistic difference impacts the way people treat mood disorders across cultures. What does this mean for the way different societies talk about trauma? What would it mean if we had a linguistic marker in English that made extra clear that the idea that “I am depressed” is an extra unit away ("I feel depressed") from the idea that “I am my depression”? A year ago today, I was in the swells of the worst depressive episode I’ve ever passed through. Each day that winter felt crushing. And perhaps the biggest roadblock to my recovery was my inability to distinguish between the questions “how are you” and “WHO are you.” I felt like my depression was a character flaw somehow, and that the emotional swamp I was trekking through meant something terrible about who I AM, and my worth. "Snap out of it!" said the ceaseless voice on the broken record that was my brain. "You're being inconsiderate and selfish. Is this really who you want to be?" When I look back at this period, it’s honestly difficult to grasp what my mind must have felt like at the time. This is a commonly-described experience among people who face this illness. There were many things I needed during my depression, and one of them was certainly a therapist — a thoughtful outsider who could look in on my self at the time and pick out the patterns of thought that were occurring, as I needed extra help to figure out where and why my mind was getting stuck on the negative. Therapy may come out of empirical psychological research, but I have to say that the first words that I think of to describe my recovery are a fortunate mystery. In the end, there were both practical and spiritual dimensions to the thing. Of course, the person I was a year ago is in most senses the same person I am today. Nonetheless, when I look back at her, I feel a distance that is not related to time. Facing depression is a little like looking at the self in translation. I'm not seeing a therapist anymore. However, a good language class is like therapy for your tongue. Some context: usually, advanced second language programs don't allow you to say anything (even explanations and definitions) in your native language. They want a clean slate. For example, as many of you probably know, some of the best programs out there even include a “language pledge” policy that requires students to leave our mother tongues at the door when we enter the classroom. While this is a strategic and often fruitful step in the overall language learning process, it’s not the “final” or “best” method of getting one's skills to be the best they can be. Contrary to this methodology, my "Introduction to Translation" class is, of course, requiring me to bring my English to the table, and this has had an impact on the nature of my learning. In Translation, I’ve had to hone in on meaning unlike in any other language class I’ve taken. What is it I REALLY want to say? "Think again" is the name of the game. Am I using this phrase because it was listed on one of my vocab sheets once, or because it actually captures the nuance I’m hoping to express? Why this term, and not another? What potentially normative categorizations or other baggage are being carried into my speech via unexamined terms of expression? Do I mean "individual," or am I really trying to say "personal"? "Educated" or "cultured"? "Pass through" the border, or "sneak" over the border? Especially thanks to Translation, I’m trying to be better about choosing my words carefully these days. The terms we use matter, and what we choose to say — indistinguishable oftentimes from HOW we choose to say it — is a political, moral, and even spiritual matter. I hope this post reminds you all that even when you feel depressed, you are not your depression. To learn more about why language matters and how you can improve the way you talk about mental health with friends and family, I highly encourage you to check out this first aid training, which is offered all over the country. As always, thanks for sharing your time with me on this blog. I hope your start to Spring is full of rain & flowers & warmth & growth! Jackie🌸
1 Comment
Rach
3/29/2019 12:56:45 pm
I loved reading this. Can't wait for a looong coffee (or drink!) and catch up session when you return. Keep writing! I miss you!
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