The Cure for Mental Health Is Not More Alone Time

Most surveys of young men reveal that their mental health is a disaster. I read in a Men’s Health study (yes, every reader has his vices) that almost 60 percent of the men surveyed have felt anxiety in the last two weeks because of money (40 percent), their personal life (35 percent), work (12 percent), or news and world events (10 percent). A quick sociological diagnosis: The money thing proves that voting for Democrats is bad for mental health, and that stands to reason because their leader is an expert on the subject; personal life is a euphemism for love, heartbreak, and arguments about who should empty the dishwasher; work doesn’t worry anyone much anymore; and there are only two types of people who feel anxiety about what they see in the news about the state of the world — the pope, and the eco-anxious who hyperventilate because of climate change fears. And the pope is right.

On the other hand, 54 percent of those surveyed have felt depressed in the last two weeks. I include myself among them: The girl I like looked at me the way one looks at an octopus in an advanced state of putrefaction. The problem here is that only respondents who have suffered real depression know what they are talking about; the rest are simply sad, are upset, or missed the train this morning (or their crush has looked at them like an octopus looking at an octopus in an advanced state of putrefaction).

To cure all these ills, a doctor who writes in the magazine suggests spending time alone: “Alone time allows men to reconnect with themselves and take time for self-care.” As a chronically anxious and depressed person, I have no interest in reconnecting. In fact, I think I came hardwired from the factory. The only member of my body that sometimes becomes independent is my liver after binging heavily, but otherwise, I feel more like a unit. Time for self-care is a good prescription, I guess, the problem is that we live in an epidemic of self-care. Everyone around me is joining gyms, doing Pilates or yoga, or meditating by gazing out to sea for half an hour a day. They say it keeps them relaxed, but then they make a huge song and dance out of the slightest setback and instantly lose their inner peace. “I feel much more relaxed” is the new “I have a lot of gay friends.”

Without wishing to antagonize the doctor, I don’t think we need much more alone time. In the most connected and social century in history, we are more disconnected and alone than ever. Our only anchor to the rest of society is a cellphone, a kind of inhuman interaction for which we have not been programmed. It is as if you prevented a robot from communicating with others based on zeros and ones and forced it to deal with them only through shows of affection: caresses between two machines, besides being noisy and cold, would be as ridiculous as they would be ineffective. Sometimes I think that we experience this same paradox every time we try to comfort someone with a hug icon via WhatsApp. It may ease our conscience, but I have something horrible to tell you: It is not possible to hug via WhatsApp, unless you consider a kiss on the lips and a double-click on the mouse to be comparable.

We are made of skin because we need to touch the skin of others; I in particular dream of touching Scarlett Johansson’s skin. Isolating ourselves may be an emergency remedy, but it’s not a good idea. On the contrary, we need not only to be with others but to actually open ourselves to them and, in a way, give ourselves to them. Many depression- and anxiety-related problems begin to heal when they are brought out into the light, and a good deal of our problems are put into perspective when we spend quality time listening to the problems of others. 

All in all, you can throw everything I’ve said so far in the trash. I think there is something more important than that. Perhaps the main cause of the unstoppable rise of depressive mental illness is the lack of transcendence and meaning in life. We think we have overcome the suicidal nihilism of the 20th century, only because the technology around us has flourished and hedonism keeps us entertained. The truth is that fin-de-siècle nihilism has not died; it has just gone silent, and the speed at which technology entertains us is just a way of postponing deep thought until the next day. But that only increases our emptiness. Without God, man cannot be grounded. And we are carried away by the winds of sadness, anxiety, or hopelessness. 

The primary prescription against anxiety, then, should not be to be alone but to be on your knees.

Translated by Joel Dalmau.

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