When Did I Become Lost? OR Have I Ever Really Known Myself?

I’m not sure when I first noticed something was different. I wrote a poem in 2004 which seems to suggest that I was aware of something different:
(excerpt from “The Masks I Wear, © 2004 TAMOAGI)

“My true self remains hidden
In the depths where even now
I am crying
For I am lost”

But to be perfectly honest I don’t remember realizing exactly how true those words were. Perhaps... perhaps they were not, not at that time. I believe I have sufficient knowledge in the area of psychology and enough experience with depression as far as my own life is concerned to tell you that I believe I became depressed somewhere around the ages of 13/14 years old. It is not uncommon for major depression to be preceded by dysthymic disorder and I believe I lived first with that for several years. And the thing about dysthymic disorder is that it is a perfect stepping stone for major depressive disorder, single episode. There has been some evidence suggesting that individuals whom start with dysthymic disorder and later acquire major depressive disorder are more likely than those whom have no history of dysthymic disorder to experience multiple major depressive episodes and have poorer interepisode recovery (DSM-IV-TR, American Psychological Association, 2000). Add to that the fact that I developed DD at a relatively early age (under 21 is considered early onset) and my future was already looking pretty bleak by the time I hit early adolescence. It gets even better though because the more MD episodes a person has makes them that much more likely to experience another one later on down the road. From what I can tell from journals I have kept over the years I think I just finished episode number four (by far the worst I have experienced)... that is as far as the DSM-IV-TR goes folks: individuals that have had three MD episodes have a 90% chance of having a fourth. What having four means they don’t say... Those statistics usually cause me to be thankful that I have some chemical help... hopefully that will allow me to stave off a fifth. Unfortunately I’ve ran out of one and so have been without it for almost three weeks now... I am hoping that I made it far enough out of the last episode to be ‘alright’ until I can get some more (don’t you just love American health care?).


But I digress. As I said, I am not sure that those words I wrote the spring of 2004 were completely true. I really do not know when I became lost, even to myself. Honestly I think I was lost much earlier than others may have noticed. Appearances can be deceiving, you know, and I have, for the most part (save for this most recent MD episode) become quite adept at keeping my problems from others (possibly I should have studied acting, rather than psychology ;)). I remember a time during one episode: I was at a meeting for my college church groups leadership team... I felt so hollow I was sure that it was obvious, positive that it was evident in my eyes. And yet, as I sat there it became clear to me that no one had noticed and to be honest I was at a loss as to explain how they had not. I was at the point where I no longer had the ability to even try to cover it up... and yet, I did. I smiled and laughed, participated in life and met my responsibilities: I went to classes and got relatively good grades. I went to work and remained productive, so much so that, in the absence of student supervisors (we had none, at the time) I was often left in charge. I went to church, led worship on Thursday nights for our churches college group (which included not only playing my guitar and singing but picking out the music as well and a little talk here and there between some songs, perhaps finding some scripture to be read between songs, things like that). I did all this running on empty. Taking a shower was so draining I more often than not climbed back into bed for a while afterward. I had no energy, I felt nothing save maybe for that horrible feeling of death while still alive (little did I know that it could be worse even than that) and an emptiness that I was sure was evident in my eyes. I suppose, really, it was around this time that I became truly lost. I had become too skilled at concealing how I was truly feeling. For all anyone else knew I was a happy and content individual; after all, they had no evidence to suggest otherwise. As I continued to maintain this facade I lost something, I’m pretty sure I lost myself. Why am I not absolutely sure? I don’t know. I suppose it has been so long I am not altogether sure I ever truly knew who I was. I started down this path at such an early age, I had no time to become anything. During the years that the formation of my personality should have been galloping along at a fine rate I was already hiding behind my masks. While my own story should have been taking shape I had already been playing a part that did not fit, that was not mine thus leaving my own part unfinished before it had even really begun. I was lost, before there was ever really anything to find.

Wow. Having come to this sad realization I wonder... is there any hope of knowing who I really am? Or will I forever be forced to play a part. I play it well and it’s really not a bad part; others, for the most part, seem to approve. However to me it feels empty and unreal and therefore dismaying.