It took me a long time to submit myself to the fact that I am mentally ill. I think it took me so long because “on paper” I should be perfectly healthy. I don’t have a strong family history of mental illness, I wasn’t abused as a child, and I have a tight-knit network of friends and family supporting me through my troubled times. But still, a darkness hangs over me, a darkness that has taken a long time to begin understanding, and one that I may never fully comprehend.
It took a sales presentation of all things to help me fully realize the primary source of my depression. That sounds odd, but hear me out. First, let me tell you about the sales pitch.
I was working for a job where selling was not our first priority but definitely number two, I won’t give more details on the actual job than that. I was attending a training conference for the position and in that conference they split us up into groups to practice sales pitches, the group would then choose one member to give a mock pitch in front of all 70+ attendees in competition for a first or second prize.
As you can probably guess my group chose me. I knew I had delivered a great pitch but I’m a very introverted person and giving a sales pitch, completely improvised on the spot in front of 70+ strangers was far beyond my comfort zone. But I wanted that top prize.
The contest itself was actually split up into two different pitches, one where the person we were selling to would play nice, and the other one where they’d play hardball. The first pitch went fantastic, I sold the mock store manager what needed to be sold and even went above and beyond in a multitude of ways that the after-pitch evaluation with the entire conference (besides the other contestants) said I was the only one to complete.
Then came time for the second pitch, the hardball pitch. I was last to go so I witnessed the other contestants leave the conference hall dejected, not having been able to get anything done. I went in worried but confident and ended up being the only person to actually get something sold. I was confident that at least one of the prizes was mine.
My confidence was bolstered by other group members coming up to me while the judges were deliberating and hyping me up, sure I was going to win first and if not first at the very least second prize. My palms got sweaty and my heart was racing. Did I, a super introverted, non-confrontational person just win a sales contest?
The answer, as you can probably guess, is no. I did not win to the genuine shock of many of those around me. I felt gutted. It had taken a lot for me to put myself out there and go for what I wanted and it felt as though I had put myself into an uncomfortable position, with the cheers of my coworkers around me, just to be utterly disappointed.
Now how does this relate to my life in general? Well, it took that sales contest to fully materialize the source of much of my depression. That is, unsubstantiated “life hype”.
It’s common to hear stories of “gifted” children falling by the wayside once they realize that they can’t just breeze through homework like it's nothing once they get to a certain level of education (except for the truly gifted children). I was one of these children but in an even more extreme sense, was told that I was going to do great things one day. It seemed like everywhere I turned people expected me to one day be the owner of a big tech company or somehow change the world. From being voted “most likely to be a billionaire” in high school, to an assortment of bosses throughout the years telling me they saw a very bright future ahead for me, I was hyped up for an extraordinary life that, like the sales contest, would bear no fruit.
Had I not been subjected to “life hype” as a child, I often ponder how my life would’ve turned out, or more importantly, my mind. The years and years of people telling me I would be something great made a normal, simple life seem not worth living. And in doing that, made living even a normal life a seemingly insurmountable challenge itself.
My expectations for life were set far too high as a child, not due to any ill will, just misperceived signs of remarkable intelligence. It is due to those expectations that I have to struggle to reprogram myself to accept a normal life, that way I can live one. Because as of now, the only extraordinary part of my existence is my abject misery.
