The Pitfalls of Being “OK”

I am what my doctor and therapist consider a “high functioning” person. There are many drawbacks to being able to get up in the morning, hold down a job, and have the freedom if not the energy to socialize fairly coherently. The trouble is that people take these actions in combination to conclude that I am rational and doing pretty good. I contribute to the problem by concealing my emotions and putting on a façade of being “OK” to protect the ones I love. I am a master of secrecy, I cry and rage in my car, call friends who are states away to express my woes and otherwise fool myself into believing that I am coping and functioning well.

Being so functional deludes me into complacency. I think because I am capable of taking showers in the morning, feeding the dog, answering e-mails, that things are on the up and up, but truthfully I am just maintaining. I am at the minimum level of my abilities. It is overwhelming to me to face cleaning my desk, setting up a writing schedule that I will adhere to, taking classes that will enrich my life like cooking, writing, knitting, sewing, and self-defense, tending to the dead garden in the backyard, caring for my indoor plants, cleaning up the closet, ordering photos online and putting them in frames and scrapbooks, these things are always on my mind and I condemn myself as a failed human being for putting them off indefinitely. So, there is a price for my continued illusion of stability, it is a tricky balancing act of taking care of myself just enough to appear alright, yet finding other secretive ways to manage the pain and isolation of the illness.

Denial is a wonderfully human trait, many people I know use it as a coping mechanism. Denial, in my mind, causes friends and family to be able to look at me and say, “Wow, she is doing so well” that they cannot imagine the pain, shame, anger, and sadness that I hide from all but the closest confidants. They ascribe my self-awareness as a prophylactic against the more ugly aspects of depression. In truth I am not a trustworthy reporter of my emotional state. Since depression can be burdensome, I want to protect everyone from it and bear the brunt since I am the one who feels defective. The stigma of mental illness in America is not as bad as it once was, but I would hate for someone to chalk any of my moods or behavior up to “being depressed” when they have no clue what it is like to walk in my shoes. It feels dangerous for me to tell people of my “problem”, I often am reticent to disclose this information since I have noticed that sometimes people view you as your symptoms instead of as a human being with a treatable disease.

I want to say that I manage the disease very well and for the most part I do, but sometimes I get so caught up in trying to be a part of everyday life that I forget to take the kind of care of myself that I should. Diet, exercise, and complying with my medication schedule play key rolls in balancing my moods. I get overconfident when I am doing good and can overdue the eating and underdue the exercise to a degree that has devastating effects. No, I am not a drama queen, this is a true disease that can consume lives and cripple individuals robbing them of safety inside their minds. It’s like an alien that takes up residence with no intentions of leaving, one who says nasty things about you and destroys the positives with it’s gloom and doom.