I find interesting the wide variety of excuses we come up with for not wanting to treat our depression. Depression is horrible, unhelpful and unhealthy, and yet so often we cling to it the way martyrs cling to their religion. We fight back against treatment, claiming that it damages our identity, or that it clouds our view of Truth, or that it represents the imposition of someone else’s world view onto us and the subjugation of our will.
Yet, post-treatment, we are just as convinced that our depressed world view was skewed, that our depressed selves is not our true selves, and that our belief in Truth was a largely a product of tunnel-vision and desire.
How can we say that one state is the correct one, since each state is completely convinced that the antithetical state is wrong? Isn’t it arbitrary, which is the “sick” state, and which is the “well”? It’s at least completely subjective, if not completely arbitrary.
So, personally, I’ve decided not to care about Truth, what my “natural” state is, or what part of my world view springs forth from my individual identity, what part emerges from the social constructs imposed on me, and what part is a product of the anti-depressant I take every morning.
I’m just going to stick with whatever version of me has the greatest potential for laughing.