Possibly a radical view of depression and the origin of more severe mental problems.

I've heard depression described as anger turned inward. So, in that view, if you are depressed you are actually mad at yourself in some way. I'm not sure if that definition works for most people, but it's been an insightful way to look at mental illness from my point of view and my personal experience.

I've been diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. At the onset of my illness when I was 20 years old, my first symptom was a deep, profound, and debilitating depression. That wasn't the issue that caused me to suffer unnecessarily for the next ten years, though. The problem was that I couldn't admit to myself that I had terribly low self esteem and I hated myself in a lot of ways. That was the cause of my depression. If I could have been honest with myself at the time, I could have possibly nipped the whole thing in the bud and begun the healing process.

But I couldn't see what was really going on inside of me. All I knew was that I felt terrible and couldn't function well. That initial delusion had basically defined my whole life to that point. I had bought into that lie to the point that I had actually been pretty good at pulling off the opposite impression from the outside perspective. People thought I was just this nice, happy-go-lucky, easy going kind of guy. I thought I was that guy, too. I had fooled everyone, including myself.

Since I couldn't admit that I didn't really like myself, I had to make up more lies to try to explain the way I felt. That spiraled completely out of control and resulted in a much more severe problem that it probably would have been if I could have seen reality initially. It led to a completely delusional state of mind and hallucinations. Psychosis, in a word.

In a way, it's all my fault. I can point to all of the crap that happened to me when I was a kid and blame it on that. But it was my reaction to all of that that caused the problem. I felt like I had to lie about my reality. It was a matter of honesty. I could not be true to myself.

I'm feeling a lot better about things now days. For the last seven years I've been surrounded by people who truly care about me. That love has been very healing. I think that's the best thing that a person who is having problems can have. That's the best thing you can do for them. For those of you who are suffering, do you have a caring, empathetic relationship with anyone in your life? Especially if you can find those qualities in a therapist- that's golden. I've been seeing a psychiatrist for 14 years; the same guy, and I feel like he doesn't really know me. I see him for 10 minutes every three months and he writes me a scrip and that's all there is to our interaction. Those drugs got me through some rough times, but I don't think they should have been the main focus of my therapy. I've seen several psychologists over that period of time and none of them helped me significantly. I look back on it and what was missing was real compassion. I'd see them for a little while, but never really improve. I guess maybe to them I was just a hundred dollar bill sitting across from them.

I'll close with a little song that's been running through my head, lately.