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Did Hamlet have a psychological trauma

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Did Hamlet have a psychological trauma

But Hamlet does not want to take revenge. He was educated and he is a Christian. A full set of contradictions, quite sufficient for a trauma, after which post-traumatic stress disorder and reactive depression are inevitable.

David Tennant as Hamlet in the movie of the same name by G. Doran

The other day I happened to decipher the lecture of Professor Y. V. Soldatkina on the religiosity of Shakespeare’s plays and, generally, about him — in historical and modern realities for the Traditions library.

I’m even afraid to ask the customer Volodya how well I did it. No, it seemed, I have known and loved Shakespeare for a long time. But it turned out that I didn’t quite know and didn’t really like it. Some proper names even happened to be googled so as not to be mistaken in their spelling, especially when it came to little-known plays and – horror! – about modern series, but I don’t look at them at all. When I have depresnyak, I limit my range of interests, perhaps inadvertently.

But as regards the memorized Hamlet, which I had learned a long time ago and out of pure love, here I would defiantly object to the professor, without even being a philologist. This note is written not by a philologist, but by a hyperempath, or a psycho-abnormal, because we like to stigmatize this topic today and hang labels even in a noble society, and we also have to live with it.

In my life, in addition to reflection, there are other urgent and rather responsible tasks, but not about that now, now I’ll talk about post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and the depression caused by it, and what it is for a believing Christian.

So, in the lecture, the distinguished professor says that Shakespeare in his tragedies carefully circumvents the topic of painful and split Christianity and touches it indirectly and almost allegorically so that the public wounded by the religious wars would not be offended. Hamlet is either a Christian, or an agnostic, or a pagan, or hesitates, sliding almost to atheism.

I see absolutely clearly Hamlet a Christian who is in hellish pain. Yes, and I see a logically structured chain of neural connections. The stress experience is the death of the father and the betrayal of the mother. Increasing stress to explosive quantities – well, even when an incomprehensible restless ghost is and requires revenge. The ghost sinned, and his death found itself beyond repentance. Therefore, he spread rot of the closest living relative, let it be bad not only for the dead. And revenge is not Christian. But in a Christian way – to honor father and mother, whatever they may be.

Well, Hamlet, our dear Danish does not want to take revenge. You see, he was educated and he is a Christian. That is why. A complete set of hellish contradictions, quite sufficient for a very serious psychological trauma, after which the inevitable PTSD, and then reactive depression, which risks becoming clinical.

But there was neither modern terminology, nor psychotherapists with psychiatrists. There were definitions like “damaged by reason,” “lost his mind,” and this did not refer to depression at all, but, for example, to Ophelia's delusional state. Or such a protagonist himself portrayed to the public, without even suspecting that he was really sick.

Oh yes, there were priests. But they are not in Shakespeare’s plays. And I don’t really have them, because in this place the author would have to denote their confessional affiliation. Well, yes, so as not to anger the public. Here is such a hidden, by default reconciling ecumenism, so that the public thinks about the main thing, and does not climb onto the stage to strangle the actors. And here, on the Orthodox resource, I will not even talk about the role of inter-confessional and inter-church conflicts, which pit the faithful and lead them away from their main goal. Experts speak well of this, and I have not been a diligent parishioner for a long time, and I do not even consider myself entitled to reason about it.

I can only say that I was baptized in Orthodoxy, and when I urgently need to thank God or come to Him with my own or someone else's misfortune, I will find Him in the Moscow church, where the abbot serves, which I can not be afraid of with my brain cockroaches, and in the monastery at the Carmelites, and at Papal Mass in St. Peter's Basilica. I was convinced of this, because it is clearly better than antidepressants, causing addiction and all sorts of side effects, but this is a happy rarity, and you still have to crawl there if you are constrained and constrained by the lack of neurotransmitters responsible for energy and motivation. Now, if you have reached, you have won. But this victory is one that will have to endlessly duplicate the rest of your life.

But back to our unfortunate hero, deprived of access to all kinds of psychotherapists and friendly priests. The rotary monologue “To be or not to be?” I would say in the place of the actors in utter numbness, in a well symbolizing the narrowing of consciousness. Or not! – holding hands on the conditional edge of the abyss, in a monotonous panting hoarse voice. Although it might have looked from the stage or even from the screen, it’s not so spectacular, but oh well, these actors and directors are not as in life, they need to recoup the costs and earn money.

And in this monologue – the climactic suicidal status of depression. But this is the suicidal status of a believer. If I were not a believer and somehow sinful, but I had once been consciously baptized by a Christian, it is quite possible I would not have been there for a long time, and this completely vital and non-theatrical question of “to be – not to be” would not have arisen. "Not to be," and without options. The surrounding life is laden with vile things, which do not leave a review even for imaginary perspectives. But I am weak and insignificant in it, because I cannot resist this, and in general I am here a foreign body that needs to be urgently removed. And all this is so unbearable, and death is so accessible that in general is it worth some kind of internal bloody struggle? Oops – and it's over.

Only here "to whom more is given, more will be asked from that." Hamlet and I are just "given more." You too, do not flatter yourself. Accepting baptism, we receive as a gift not only joy but also responsibility for it. This was spelled out in the contract, but, as often happens, we took it purely formally.

A man who desires to stop all his hellish feelings at once, but who has taken upon himself the faith, becomes numb with horror, because here and now he holds his hands over the edge of the abyss, one slight movement or the dastardly blow of the wind from the outside – and there will never be a choice .

Hamlet and Ophelia, ill. D. G. Rossetti (XIX century)

Well, why did I remember the narrowing of consciousness? Yes, because a person who fell into the trap of “pre-suicide” felt God-delivered and this absolute vacuum of loneliness. Loneliness – whatever his good Horatio was somewhere behind the scenes, or behind the scenes, whatever his responsibility for loved ones. The human in a person turns him into a complete egoist, into a deprived baby, able to feel love only through direct stroking, and not through complex reflections, to which there are no more forces. But the Christian in man, in my opinion, is stored somewhere in the subconscious, because – after all, he resists, even without being identified.

“It is better to put up with an unfamiliar evil than to flee to an unfamiliar one” and about “the fear of a country from which no one has returned” – this is said by a person, but God directs him, as far as He can do it where his kingdom is not, and tells in a language that is now available to humans.

It is a pity that Horatio did not hear these words, there was only hope for him, what if he suddenly translated Hamlet into his own language, Hamlet’s, but adult? But the tragedy is a tragedy, and dear William is not in abundance of blood, this is just the consequence and effect for the public, but it is deep inside, where there is a hellish war of a man with himself.

Besides Shakespeare’s plays, I love his sonnets no less. And one of them is already quoted directly by itself, the one that is the 66th. Well, let's say, in the statement of Pasternak:

“Being exhausted by everyone, I want to die.
Longing to watch the poor man toss
And as a rich man jokingly lives,
And to trust, and to get into trouble,
And watch the impudence creep into the light
And the honor of a girl is sinking down
And to know that there is no progress to perfection,
And see the power of weakness in captivity
And remember that thoughts are closed mouth,
And the mind blows stupid blasphemy
And straightforward simplicity is reputed
And kindness serves evil.
Being exhausted by everyone, I would not live a day,
Yes, it will be difficult for a friend without me. ”

Here I allowed myself a daring liberty, forgive me both the great dead, the word "Friend" to capitalize. You, of course, understand Who I am about.

Our beloved departed are all in Him. Well, somehow we would have to hope for a meeting and somehow not to miss forever.

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