I feel all embarrassed, reading the comments in response to my last depression post. I really wasn’t expecting any comments, I just wanted to get stuff out of my head. But thank you for the comments, I do appreciate them.

Which brings me to something else I’ve been thinking about recently–the difference between how one perceives oneself and how others perceive you.

I am pretty sure that those who knew me in high school and college would in no way recognize the person that I have become. Not only in looks (!) but in how I behave, what I believe, and who I have become.
When I was younger I was incredibly judgmental (hell, I still am, sometimes). I saw things in black and white, good and evil, and could not for the life of me understand how people could hold opinions that were so obviously wrong (i.e. different from mine.) But as I screwed up my own life, I came to understand that there wasn’t necessarily a thing such as evil, and that evil was sometimes the result of a cascade of bad decisions and poor judgment.

I also was doing my best to screw up my life. Much of it stemmed from attempting to self-medicate, but some also came from immaturity, and my inability to deal with my mental state (which circles back around to my attempts to self-medicate).

But slowly–slowly!–I started to grow up. It took me a lot longer than everyone else, but I eventually got there. I also learned better ways to deal with my depression and OCD. (First Rule: Never drink when depressed. Ever. Second Rule: Don’t drink when depressed.)

And I talked to people. And while talking people I learned to listen. And I learned that people usually have sound reasons for the opinions they hold, and that those opinions are not usually bad judgment as much as differing priorities. (Though I draw the line at GWB. Anyone who thinks he is a good president doesn’t just have different priorities–they have something seriously wrong with them.)

And I learned to think before I acted. This sounds like such a small thing, something you hear repeated all the time, but it’s something that took me years to learn. And I still have not mastered it, but I’m getting better.

And through all of this I changed from who I was to who I am now. Except that I’m still the person I was then. The person I am now still carries all the guilt of what I did then; My past colors my current perception of myself. How do you escape this? Can you ever escape this?

But here’s the funny thing. If I hadn’t screwed up so much, made so many mistakes, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I might still be the judgmental little snot I was when I was a teenager, still seeing the world in black and white. I wouldn’t have the patience I’ve gained, or the understanding that people screw up. It happens. And that they need to be forgiven.

But sometimes, what helps the most is the realization that without my past–and the many things I regret about my past–I would not be the person I am today. I would not have the life I have today. Because despite the depression an OCD, I know I am damned lucky. I have a marvelous, wonderful husband. I have a family who supports me. And I have good friends.

And really, what more could anyone need?

Okay. You’re right. I also have disposable income to buy books. See how lucky I am!