Tuesday, 28 August 2007
"Look. We don't believe, we fear."
"Following the work of Martin Seligman, many psychiatrists now characterise depressed people as suffering from Learned Helplessness. Seligman's theory arose from the observation that dogs which were repeatedly given electric shocks over which they could exercise no control became listless and helpless - in many ways like depressed human. Studies of normal humans also revealed that they became helpless if given no control in experimental situations and he hypothesized that people became depressed as a result of being placed in situations where whatever they do makes no difference to what happens."
(Oliver James, Britain on the Couch, p50)
For a larger version of this picture, click here.
To find out what Prozac-Nadler is thinking, click here.
(In the collection of Richard McCabe, London)
Labels:
aging,
at the end of the day,
death,
illness
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21 comments:
I get it - those are the mountains of despair?
It's amazing how good this is, and i'd like it anyway, but that fact that i'm in there and you are kind of prodding at a truth about me makes it intense on another level.
I didn't mean to reveal any deep dark truths about anyone but myself, but if I did, I think that's good, whatever the flak that comes from that.
i keep returning to this and reading it over and over and it fills me with despair...maybe it's those deep dark truths...
deep dark truths...why bother with anything else?
really.
truly.
printed and hanging on my wall at work.
Aside from the pharmacy and the acting out of your depression, I wonder what other steps you have taken to counter it?...(I do enjoy your pictures).
Do you feel threatened, Ellis, if someone takes an interest in you...?
regards.
Hey cuz,
For the 1st time I relate to your blog today.....
;-(
xxxxx
The bipolar II one in the family....
Maybe you just need to get laid, Rachelle...
Hello Therapist.
Were you thinking of offering your pricey sympathy-time to me and then crowing on your blog about what mugs we Weak In The Headers are?
what pill will the therapist be?
jesus. you need to get published. i'm fucking serious. (i was gonna write 'effin' till i remembered your avatar) bwa ha ha
quite frankly, i need some SELF control. alluva sudden, i'm eating a bag of hershey kisses a day. if this keeps up, i'm gonna get round. [i get images of me rolling off the furniture.]
Many thanks, Prozac.
Having considered myself a fake most of my life, it doesn't sit easily with me to say I am real, but so it is. As for soliciting for work on your blog, I would never do that, having what is known outside the womb as a reputation. However, your fear inclines me to wonder- who has betrayed you?
regards.
I think The Therapist wants to Fuck With My Mind (but hey, that's what they're good at, innit?)
Have always wanted someone to Fuck With My Mind like Conchis done in The Magus. You up for the job Therapist?
Betrayal. Everyone. But mainly betrayed by...myself.
Not sure what that means, but sounds like the sort of thing one would say in therapy.
Now back to reading my Jeffrey Masson book.
Im jealous that switch has a job and a printer.
Prozac,
You'd like me to play with your mind? Like Conchis? I suggest reflecting on the him or her who originally played with your mind.
Spend a little time with that, the original betrayal. Then sleep.
regards
http://www.suicidemethods.net/index.html
family like you who needs enemies! here is a great site for you to check out!!
http://www.geocities.com/t_ride9/sui.html
This one is great too - different methods of suicide when the fucking prozac wears off! and getting laid doesnt help!
Wow
It looks like everyone is playing on the belly of a pointy chined lady.
that therapist is always smoking a pipe filled with a mysterious O. substance.
O. instead of alcohol, perhaps?
Opium. I don't know. Though supposedly it's making a comeback. Suitably louche for The Therapist, I'd say.
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