living & lies

In a previous post, I said, “that was one of the worst nights of my life, but I’ll explain later why it was also one of the best.”

If you haven’t read the post linked above, then I would suggest doing so because otherwise this post will not make much sense.

The night that made me finally realize the extent of my depression was the night I grew immensely as a person. I think as a kid you can pretty much hide behind your parents and let them handle everything, and then it’s super hard to know when you have to face something head-on and deal with it. Not that I spent my childhood hiding behind my mom, and to be honest once I decided I needed help I ran to my mom, but you know what I mean. And if you don’t know what I mean then that’s okay, too, and we’ll just move on.

That night, or rather the morning after that night, was the first time in my life I had to admit to myself that I’d been lying to myself. And not a little white lie, either. Sure, we’ve all lied to ourselves like “yeah, I’ll study tonight,” or “eating this bagel won’t be cheating on my diet,” but I mean I had to really admit to my own self that I was in denial and that I’d been living a lie because I was too scared to face a problem. And ever since that morning after that night, I’ve been a lot more comfortable with failure and not being “okay,” which has helped me immensely. I think it’s really important and also really an overlooked concept to accept when you fail, because if you can’t accept failure, then you won’t learn and you won’t be proud of yourself when you succeed.

That night literally started me on an adventure of self-discovery. Call me cliché and call me stupid, but I understand myself a hell of a lot more than I did before.

living & lies

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