I Became a Wildlife Conservationist, now I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder

It's been a long time since I've written in this blog. It's been a long time since I've made a photographic expedition, posted a trip report, reviewed a new piece a gear, or done any of the things one is supposed to do when they are attempting to be contributing members of the "blogsphere" online. I have all the standard excuses; busy at work, life gets in the way, but the real reason why is a little darker. The truth is that I have been struggling for a while now with a mental disorder that effects millions of people all over the world. I've been depressed. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders (DSM-5), I have been suffering from many of the classic symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder on and off now for some time, I'll spare you all the psychoanalysis, but here are some of the highlights (or lowlights) that have effected me:

Feelings of sadness, fearfulness, emptiness, or hopelessness
Angry outbursts, irritability or frustration, even over small matters
Sleep disturbances (in my case insomnia)
Feelings of worthlessness or guilt, fixating on past failures or self-blame
Unexplained physical problems such as back pain or headaches
Loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities such as sex, hobbies, or sports

Yes, I have been dealing with a near textbook case of Major Depressive Disorder. I, not unlike millions of Americans and people all over the world, fight a nearly daily battle with mental illness. As a character in my own story, I have two unique advantages that most people don't. The first is that as a professional Psychology teacher I have an acute awareness and scientific understanding of my disorder that the vast majority of people do not have. The second, is as a result of this awareness I am capable of understanding that my depression is psychological and not chemical. This makes me very fortunate in multiple ways, but I also understand that without proper treatment psychological depression can become chemical as brain chemistry begins to change. Writing this post is just one step I am taking to face this head on and try to prevent that from happening.

Like most cases of depression, I can point to specific events that all could have triggered this; a painful divorce, a traumatic experience in my professional life, financial hardship (both the normal kind that comes from being a teacher in the United States and additional difficulty brought on by the divorce.) I weathered most of these things pretty well actually, for me my torment really began when I did something that typically brings happiness to most people, I found my purpose in life. I've written many times about a transformational experience I had with a Mikumi lioness in Tanzania in 2012, it was the moment I became a wildlife conservationist. Since that time I've had a number of adventures all over the world, taking my camera and trying to tell stories for those in peril who can't tell their own. I've raised money for giraffe conservation, helped fund camera trap research for predator protection, worked on countless elephant conservation programs, tracked poachers, contributed to education campaigns against the ivory and rhino horn trade, visited dozens of countries, filled my passport with stamps and supported conservationists on the front line... and none of it is enough. Like the tragic Greek figure Sisyphus, I feel helpless and hopeless as I've had a front row view of a man made mass extinction event.

Psychology isn't the only subject I teach. During the fall term for 12 weeks every year I teach Economics. It's this curse of knowledge, combined with the experiences I've described above, that is the source of my mental anguish. Economics is a social science of human behavior, and it is truly fascinating. What makes it most intriguing (and tragic) to me is that most of it isn't real. Please don't misinterpret what I am saying, the consequences of human economics are very real, but most of the principles are completely constructed by us, to serve our own purposes. Capitalism itself has only been around for a few hundred years, and those have unquestionably been the most environmentally catastrophic centuries in the whole of human existence. It's a flawed system (like they all are) that by design benefits the individual at the cost of the collective, but maybe more importantly it is fundamentally dependent on growth. Economic growth, population growth, unsustainable never-ending growth by any reasonable measure. Perhaps the only real law of economics that hasn't been a construct of humans is scarcity. Its the one natural law that forms the foundation on the which the rest is supposed to be built. The more rare something is, the more valuable it is supposed to be. But as nature, diversity, wilderness, and healthy ecosystems become scarcer and scarcer, most of humanity either doesn't care or can't be bothered... and this is why I'm struggling with mental health. All of the analogies of humanity being closer to a virus than anything else in the natural world resonate too strongly with me. Cliches are, after all, cliches for a reason aren't they? We don't protect elephants even though they are disappearing. Ivory traders actually want the extinction of the species, so that the price of their stock will skyrocket. It's madness. I wake up every morning fully understanding this madness, having seen it with my own eyes, and it's driving me mad in turn. While the human virus spreads across the planet, life itself becomes more scarce. Money isn't real. Life is real.

We don't have to be a virus. We don't have to be a disease. None of this is inevitable. It can be reversed. We simply lack the will to change.

As I have said, I am one of the lucky ones. I understand my depression. I understand it's causes, I am aware of its power over me. I am introspective enough to know what I am dealing with and when I'm in over my head. I've never had suicidal thoughts. My plan, for lack of a better one, is to keep banging on a drum that most people are willfully deaf towards and happily in denial of. It's not hard to imagine a species being an engine of destruction and extinction, but imagine a species that knew it was an engine of destruction and extinction. Imagine it didn't have to be, but chose to be anyway. Imagine you knew all of this, and were a part of that species yourself. If you can imagine all of that, then its not hard to imagine why I struggle every single day. I wish I could end this post with an uplifting message about how those on the front lines have given me hope, and in truth they often do, but today I am just not feeling it.