Many would consider it appropriate to hide my unusualness and make sure I fit in with normal behaviour. That's something I do and have to do and its something I like to do because being different can be very lonely. There have been times when my madness was beyond my control such that unintended consequences made me something of a social pariah.
I think many people hide their madness, from hiding their inner child's inappropriate playfulness to keeping silent feelings of attraction to never speaking about unusual experiences or thoughts. Its something we all have to do to fit in and perhaps there is a need for this because without it could be a social anarchy where social taboos no longer exist. (Frankly my opinion is that this would be an ideal society but that's probably why I'd be considered a libertine.)
I think its wrong that we have to hide the truth about ourselves because to me that is a real truth, or moreso than the truth that openness and honesty leaves an individual open to ridicule, scorn, social disgrace, discreditation and perhaps, counterintutively, mistrust. Its fear of that latter that makes people do it.
Its a fear that feels like a leftover from the playground: the fear of being a weirdo. "Weirdo" was one of the earliest mental health diagnoses I came across. Its a diagnosis without sophisticated epidemiological studies but it has an estimatable prognosis. There's usually a degree of social isolation and in childhood this can be a direct cause of depression. Some children rise to the name of "weirdo" but for others it can be a shattering experience. Breaching the unwritten social laws of behaviour at school can bring harsh punishments to young minds. Exclusion, ridicule and devaluation are hard to take as an adult but for a child the impact is far worse and I wonder if it could cause future psychiatric symptoms.
Some children are different and grow from their difference rather than hide it for fear of the consequences. I can reflect somewhat on my miserable childhood and see that it helped make me whatever I am. I was weird then but didn't really realise that it was important not to be weird. I just bumbled along regardless.
This isn't the post where I retell my childhood but I can describe some of the impact. I'm reflective and perhaps somewhat intense person now underneath my mask of vacuous cheer. The me underneath the mask came from long periods of loneliness, solitude and time spent with my own thoughts. My friends were often my books and I read prolifically. They took me away to fantasy worlds away from the terrible present like the joints I smoke today. I would make dreams and stories for myself to escape the present and entertain my bored mind. Some children have imaginary friends but for me science and science fiction were enough.
From an early age I remember experiencing lows but not really knowing that they were bad. They felt bad but I didn't know that that it was something that could have been stopped. I got on with things and day after day would continue to function to the necessary measures, i.e. turn up to school, do the minimum amount of homework, eat, sleep and make sufficient social contact to get through my life. On the inside I'd be carrying the weight of depression and I just stumbled on through.
Loneliness became solitude as I grew used to it and learnt to appreciate it. I relied on myself as much as I could, hiding away my problems and developing the mask. I never stopped being weird but I managed to find groups of people that accepted me and disregarded or even enjoyed my uniqueness. I became able to find friends like that whenever, wherever and that's something that I'm thankful for because adult life has seen many crises where I've lost lots of friends.
There's a point to all this. Its that there can be a positive to the loneliness and solitude that comes with exclusion. Its not all good. Conquering the overbearing sense of self-reliance that came from having to rely on myself has been a struggle in adult life. Its made my recovery considerably longer and more arduous, but there is still a sense of pride derived from the challenge. I was a weird child and now I'm a very weird, mad, mentally ill adult and that comes with all sorts of scientific evidence that my life is disadvantaged because of my unusualness and I will die sooner. (The former is bareable because the lesson I've learnt is that sometimes its better to be different and true than happier and false and the latter is a pleasant thought.)
I'd originally started this piece with the line "I've committed the sin of hiding my madness". The information above is in my usual vein of attempting to see positivity in negative experiences. But the point I originally started to make was about changing stigma, openness and individual responsbility. I've clearly gone off on a tangent but its a worthwhile one.
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