Of the many awful feelings of having a breakdown and ending up psychotically and suicidally depressed is that one's entire life seems fraudulent. Everything I had ever done was fake, manipulated, a lie and a fraud. I doubted everything I had ever believed.
My days of hitting the mental health floor are long gone. My alleged narcissism consigned only to the the egos of those judgemental fools who labelled me. Who were the real narcissists in my tragic story? Yet that lack of belief and feeling of fraud still persists at times. Many say I downplay what I have achieved. I just don't think it is that important. Clearly they have never seen my mini manias.
Yesterday I handed in my final MSc assignment. Reason to celebrate of course but it is tempered by that fear, will I pass? My first assignment got a mark worth a distinction, huge praise from other students and was short-listed for an innovation award. But it was not innovative, it was merely researching a change that would happen with or without me and writing it down. My second assignment barely passed and I have no idea where I went wrong. And this one, who knows, I have no idea what is expected of me.
A friend commented in the week that I dismissed teaching myself A Level Philosophy in a year and getting a C. That is no achievement as I didn't get an A. Doubt. Fake. Fraud.
In time I will find out if I have passed my MSc. Everyone thinks I will without any doubt. But it ain't over until it's over. The day of graduation when dad comes along I will believe. That is a sad legacy of breakdown and 25 years of mental illness.
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