I have major depressive disorder that is somewhat treatment-resistant. Like many people with mental illness, I'm not able to pinpoint the beginning, but...
  1. When I was 12, I told an elaborate lie to my (newish) close friends.
  2. I'm still embarrassed about the details. It had something to do with some best friends from when we lived in another town, who were in a freak accident because of something I did, and died.
    Really really twisted. I know.
  3. To make a long sordid story short, I carried on with the charade until I caved about four months later. The guilt was too much for me really. So I told them it had all been a lie.
  4. "All of it?"
    All of it.
  5. Our friendship didn't last long after that. They felt they didn't really know me anymore. And also they didn't appreciate having the wool pulled over their eyes so they made up some of their own stories. About me.
    Not all of them were stories. Some of them were just secrets they no longer felt the need to keep.
  6. Anyway. Tweenage friendship dramas, LAME.
  7. Every once in a while I think back to it and I'm always embarrassed by it.
  8. But tonight I had this realisation:
  9. Why would a generally good kid, not prone to lies, concoct such an elaborate one?
  10. And why focus it on tragedy? Why not something cool, like making out with some kid-celeb or going to Disney?
  11. That lie made me feel like I had a reason to be sad. It made me feel like I didn't have to hide my darkness anymore.
    It was freeing.
  12. I remember being sad a lot. I remember not being able to stop crying when I fell, even if I didn't have a scrape.
  13. After I gave up on the lie, there was another reason for my sadness: I had lost my friends.
  14. So I know my MDD goes back to at least then, right? I didn't understand that I didn't need a reason to be sad.
  15. Am I overanalysing this because I wish no longer to be embarrassed by it?