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The deception of perfection is very real, and every bit as debilitating as depression itself.
In the last month I have taken a break from this blog, from life, from depression. I began trying to organise my life, to organise my home, to “get it together”. Taking up the mantra, “Fake it till you make it,” I moved into Perfectionist Mode and tried to get on with life. Unfortunately all I did was lie to myself, making me a deceptive manipulator lost in my own deception.
I broke down Saturday. Not wanting to deal with this ongoing depression. I’m overwhelmed by this. Twenty years of my life has been interrupted, interfered with, and overwhelmed by my bipolar disorder, and I’m tired of it. Tired of life.
I’m tired of failing. Exhausted from trying to just put one foot in front of the other and carry on with the daily things in life. There are times I just feel the world is passing me by, that I’m not really a part of it, that I don’t deserve to be a part of life, that I’m not good enough.
What makes things so hard is that I can see how brilliant I am, how brilliant I could be. I focus so much on what I could be and what I’m not that I can’t see what I am. What I am isn’t good enough for me, and then I’m paralysed by my perceived inadequacies that I do nothing with the amazing qualities I do have.
I’ve typed that last paragraph, and I know it is true, but I don’t fully see it right now. I don’t see the good, the talent inside, the great things I already do. What I do, who I am, isn’t enough for me. This is the lie, the deceitfulness of depression, the bleakness it causes in life. Depression is a Liar.
In my life, Perfectionism is my greatest enemy. It rely’s on it’s friends Depression and Deceit to support it’s frontal assault on my life. And I listen to it’s lies. I’ve struggled with Perfectionist for 20 years. It was the first indication that something as wrong. After we met, it moved in, and lived like an abusive partner I have been unable to get away from it.
Perfectionism leaves me with scars, and tells me to hide those scars so no one even knows they are there. I put of my mask, I layer myself in a protective shield of Manipulation and Deceit and face the world, terrified someone might see through the mask, see that I’m not really doing as well as I would like you to believe.
The only tool I have is Honesty. Honesty can fight Deceit and Manipulation, and chip away at the hold Perfection has on my life. Perfection isn’t real, its a mask, it’s a lie. Only through being honest with myself and my loved ones will I defeat Perfectionism. But 20 years of coping like this is hard to overcome.
I’ve been stable so much in the last 10 years that I’ve forgotten how to defeat depression when it rears it’s ugly head in my life. I’ve taken my stability for granted, and to easily moved backward into adopting my old habits.
Fighting bipolar, getting stable, is just as much about learning new ways to deal with issues as it is about medication and healthy living. I hate to admit it, but I’m still struggling, and I probably will struggle throughout my life. I don’t like it, but it’s the Honest Truth.
Thornsyde 