A man stands inside his house, staring through the window at the world outside. His eyes are directed outwards, but he is not really looking at anything. He simply stands there, as blank and motionless as a condemned prisoner waiting for the day of his execution.

Then, without warning, someone throws a stone through his window. As if that were not enough, a storm rolls in, sending wind and rain through the shattered glass. The curtains whip about and water begins pooling on the floor. Suddenly, he is scrambling to get out of the rain, find some towels and work out how to cover the hole. A man for whom life itself had felt meaningless now has a clear and immediate purpose.

“Block that hole.”

Now imagine a woman walking alone through an isolated field. Her feet carry her slowly forwards, but she is not really going anywhere. Like an empty boat adrift on the current, she simply goes wherever her feet take her.

Then, suddenly, she needs to pee. She scans the field for a tree or rock to hide behind and checks whether anyone can see her from a distance. As the pressure builds, her mind becomes sharper. Moments earlier, she had no idea where she was going. Now she has a definite goal.

“First, find somewhere to pee.”

Strangely, human beings can spend a lifetime struggling to find some noble reason to live, yet we instantly understand why we need to cover a broken window or find a toilet.

There is, of course, no research showing that holding in your pee cures depression. Nor should anyone make a habit of doing it for too long. There is no point sacrificing your bladder to save your mind.

Still, there is a small truth hidden inside this ridiculous thought experiment. Even when we are sinking deep into depression, we can still respond to problems that are small, concrete and immediate. While we are covering a broken window, searching for a toilet, making something to eat or giving the dog some water, depression is briefly pushed aside. That pause may not be a cure, but it can give us enough room to catch our breath.

Perhaps what someone in despair needs most urgently is not a grand meaning for their life. I may not be able to stop the darkness from burrowing into me, but I still need to stop the rain coming through the window. I may have no idea what I am searching for in life, but right now I need to find a toilet. Even without answering life’s great questions, we can solve the small problem in front of us and make it through to the next moment.

Perhaps what keeps us going is not always some grand reason. Sometimes a broken window and a full bladder are enough to call us back into the world. When the meaning of life cannot save us, pee might.

Human beings are not as noble as we like to think.
Thankfully.