ANHEDONIA

A new word entered my vocabulary recently: anhedonia. Only the word is new, however. Not the concept.

 An article in the October 21st Science section of the NY Times, entitled “Joy Seems Dead. There’s a Word for That,” by Christina Caron, describes anhedonia as a condition that prevents a person from enjoying things, even things that would usually make him or her happy. This person feels no desire to seek out experiences that might create happiness as the steps in that process seem too difficult and overwhelming.

The word derives from the Greek “hedone,” meaning pleasure, also the root of the word "hedonism." “An” means without. Hence, without pleasure.

 Often connected to depression, but not always, anhedonia can easily go undetected for years as it is a quiet affliction and can seem similar to plain apathy. While short periods of it can be normal, the inability to experience pleasure for long stretches of time can be serious. On occasion, anhedonia is part of some form of mental illness, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or PTSD. It also has become associated with Parkinson’s. Before diagnosing anhedonia, a doctor should rule out a vitamin deficiency (specifically vitamin D) and a thyroid hormonal imbalance.

 Anhedonia takes two forms — social and physical. Social anhedonia involves discomfort being around people and the avoidance of social situations. Physical anhedonia is characterized by a person’s inability to enjoy touch, smells, or sounds. For example, a hug can feel unwelcome rather than comforting, music or sounds of Nature once enjoyed can leave the person feeling bored or numb. Foods the person once enjoyed can provide absolutely no enjoyment, or much less enjoyment than previously. Sex provides no pleasure and therefore the person does not look forward to it.

A French psychiatrist noticed anhedonia in the 1800s, and Freud, in the 20th century, considered it a loss of libido and a symptom of severe depression.

 One theory holds that a lowering of dopamine levels in the brain is the cause, as the neuro-transmitter dopamine is linked to feelings of pleasure. Therefore, losing interest in feeling good or being unable to feel happy or to enjoy things can be the result of this change in the brain.

  Whatever the cause, it is important to recognize and treat this condition so that it will not lead to other psychological issues. Some medications may be helpful, especially when combined with therapy.

            In my novella The Whale Surfaces, the teenage protagonist Marcia Gold accompanies a group of school girlfriends on a shopping trip. The following describes what she feels while in a department store dressing room:

"It seemed to be going on forever. Marcia was sitting on the

floor of her fitting room, staring into the mirror, looking at her pallid

face, her brown hair clustering in messy waves, frizzy from the rain,

her deadened expression. What had happened, she wondered. She’d

been excited about this day, but now something had changed inside

her. Then she looked over at the clothing she had hung up. Jeans, of

course. And tops in blue and green and red and black. She turned

away. It suddenly meant nothing. The clothes were hideous, garish.

Her hands began to tremble. She wanted to run out of there, dump

all those ridiculous clothes in the nearest trash can, scream into the rain."

At an ice cream parlor with the girls afterwards, she feels the following:

"Sitting in the booth with the girls, tasting from one another’s selections and laughing over the flavors, Marcia looked out the window at the steady drizzle and saw herself standing out there, looking in. Here was this happy group of friendly, nice girls—all good students—having a fun day together. Did she look like the others? Could this observer tell that she—this one girl in the group—was not enjoying herself, that she was apparently incapable of enjoying ordinary pleasures of life that everyone else relishes? Why was she different? Why was she pretending to be present when she was actually suffering, aching to get away from them, to erase the entire shopping experience?"

Back home, she says to her mother: “I’m not like other people. I can’t have fun.”

I guess I knew something about this condition when I wrote the book without knowing it has a name. I am familiar with those feelings, and I gave my protagonist a slew of psychological problems. This one is related to her other issues, issues she will eventually have to acknowledge.

Unable to have fun on a shopping and ice cream day with friends, Marcia is confused and thinks something is terribly wrong with her. I wish my Marcia, my creation, could know that she is not alone, not the only one dealing with this confounding condition. That is what I wish for anyone—whether child, teenager, or adult—struggling with any type of mental disorder. Understanding that others face the same or similar problems is such an important step toward mental health. The next step is recognizing the need to get help.

If there is any message in my two novels about Marcia Gold, that is it.