Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Monday, March 18, 2013
When it comes to mental health, I'm in pretty good shape. I suffer from a mild anxiety disorder which interferes with my sleep but is (mostly) controlled by a low grade anxiety medication. I suffer from mild depression which is (basically) controlled by diet and exercise. That's it. And because that's it, I am lucky indeed. I don't have to medicate for my depression, and my "cure" has all sorts of other positive effects in terms of my long-term health. The medication I take for my insomnia is non-addictive and I've experienced no long-term side effects. I know for a fact that it could be much, much worse, and I'm thankful for my sake and the sake of those who love me that it's not.

But in spite of this, I do occasionally still get a visit from that lying liar of lies, depression. It manifests itself in all the usual ways - lack of motivation, fatigue, a general feeling of being blue, struggling with learning new things. I can deal with all these things, as I now have the emotional resiliency and perspective to know that this, too, shall pass, and my symptoms tend to be manageable and mild.

But it also brings up all the old insecurities and feelings of inadequacy that I thought I had vanquished. And those feelings are harder for me to manage.

I think everyone struggles periodically with feelings that they're not "good enough," that they will fail at whatever endeavor currently has the most value in their minds. But there's something about depression that brings those feelings to the fore, at least for me. When depression strikes, it doesn't matter how accomplished I am on a professional level, it doesn't matter that people I trust and respect, who trust and respect me in return, tell me I'm a great engineer with plenty to offer. All that matters is that I feel like I'm great, big fraud, and that soon everyone will discover that I am incapable of performing the work for which I'm (obviously!) overpaid.

This is true on a personal level, as well, when I convince myself that I'm not a good person, that I'm failing at becoming a person I can admire and love. That I'm selfish, or petty, or narcissistic, or mean-spirited. When I'm not depressed, I recognize that these horrifying stories are nothing more than lies that depression tells me when I'm vulnerable, but occasionally, when things are bad, I have trouble seeing the truth of it.

This, I think, is the challenge of mental illness - to learn to accept myself in the world in a positive way as opposed to always assuming the negative, the cynical, the worst. Being honest with myself about my behavior and the way my actions affect others is critical to leading an examined life, but the truth of the matter is that depression lies.

8 comments:

Random Michelle K said...

Depression is a lying mother fucker.

Steve Buchheit said...

What Random Michelle K said. Mine also like to bring up the past when I've been less than sensitive or intelligent, and the anxiety and embarrassment is as fresh as it's every been.

Paulette said...

I shall try this again....

Ditto Michelle and Steve. Depression is a fucking bitch of evil proportions.

Stacey said...

As you know, I agree wholeheartedly. Lying motherfucker indeed.

Warner said...

Yes, I've never understood why in 49 years, counting college radio, nobody has figured out I know squat about communications and electronics.

anissa_roy said...

I'm just a random lurker, but a) depression is definitely a lying liar made of lies, and b) I admire the hell out of you for writing with courage and wit about things like this.

Janiece said...

annissa_roy, you're not really a lurker anymore, since you do comment on a regular basis.

And thank you.

Carol Elaine said...

What everyone else said.

You know what, Depression? Fuck you. Fuck you right in the ear with a rusty chainsaw. Stay the hell away from my friends.