The song then gives a rundown of the sad and sordid aspects of the dark underbelly of the capital – abuse, poverty, crime, homelessness etc etc. And the point of showing it is to make the sufferer realise that some people have it worse than they do, so they ought to think themselves lucky and cheer up.
This is typical of the attitude taken by most people to real depression. They confuse it with feeling a bit down because the bills they have waiting to be paid amount to more than they can afford. They have to be reminded that some folks are even worse off, so all they need do is shape up and stop being a wimp. That isn’t real depression.
Real depression is a vicious demon living inside a person, waiting for the trigger which will enable it to leap up, grab them by the throat, and pull them into a cold place where all is dark and nothing matters. And sometimes it doesn’t even wait for a trigger. Depressive people are nearly always highly sensitive and often empathic, and so showing them images of suffering is likely to make them more depressed, not less.
Depression isn’t about comparisons and league tables of suffering. It’s much more personal and fundamental than that. So I hope that whoever wrote that stupid bloody song Streets of London has now grown up and realised that life isn’t as simple as they used to think it was.
No comments:
Post a Comment