Something came up in therapy today that I want to explore, much as one explores the empty socket of a pulled tooth with one’s tongue after an extraction.

It has to do with a stark and desperate truth : that the chemical imbalance of depression renders you incapable of believing certain things, no matter what the evidence says.

I find that idea extremely offensive to my intellectual sensibilities, as would anyone. We all like to believe that we arrive at our beliefs through observation, insight, logic, and deduction, and that no matter what the truth is, we will believe it if the evidence supports that conclusion.

Certainly, I have lived a great deal of my life thinking exactly that. From my first philosophy course onward, I envisioned myself as a rugged philosopher, willing to examine anything at all in this mad reaction chamber of a mind of mine in my pursuit of the almighty Truth.

The idea that there are things I would be incapable of believing, no matter the logic, no matter the evidence, flies in the face of such conceit. And to face this hard truth is humbling indeed.

And yet, in a way, I have known for a long time. For many, many years now, I have been blithely saying that it was one thing to know something intellectually but quite another thing to feel it. I have even talked about the difference between knowing something and believing it.

But it has only been recently that this picture has taken on this new layer of clarity, and only today, during therapy, that I put it out there into the world in words which I cannot take back or suppress.

There are things I have no choice but to believe, and things I cannot believe, no matter the logic, no matter how much evidence, because of these goddamned chemicals in my brain.

It is a frightening thought to face one’s mental illness head on like this. Looking one’s insanity standing there, naked in the clear light of day, makes one feel small and helpless in the world.

If I cannot even trust this phenomenal mind of mine and its ability to reason, to observe, and to find the truth of things, what can I trust? Where do you turn when your mind is suspect?

In a way, I have been fighting this fight ever since I was a little kid. Like a lot of kids, I was afraid of the dark. I only conquered that fear with reason, namely, telling myself that, logically, there was nothing in my room when it was dark that was not there in the light.

In that case, I was able to conquer irrational fear with the power of logic and reason. Perhaps this is what set me on the path I have pursued ever since.

And to this day, when I am struggling with my inner demons, it is my mind I use against them. I push myself hard towards the truth as opposed to the filthy lies my chemical imbalance pushes me towards.

I told my therapist this morning that fighting against depression is like walking against the wind. It is this force always pushing you back, and it takes a lot of effort and determination to make any progress.

And that is how I feel about it now. For the first time, I see my struggle clearly as a fight to make myself believe the positive things about myself that I know deep down are true, but that depression has kept me from believing until now.

I am hoping that now that I have this better understanding of the nature of the problem, I can better steel myself for the fight and press onward towards not just the truth, but my own happiness.

Of course, this battle will not be won by reason alone. It is, in fact, a contest of will, and will and reason are not the same thing. Reason is of the mind. But will is an emotion, at its core. It can be shored up by reason or drained by false belief, but it is an emotion nevertheless.

And the truth remains that no amount of willpower or skulduggery will solve this problem by itself. The real healing is purely emotional, and in some ways out of my conscious control.

I don’t mean that there is nothing I can do to help myself get better. Not at all.

But it means that it cannot be done entirely under the power of this amazing brain of mine. I will have to walk past the edge of my reason and deal with the deep mystical truths of my own soul.

It means I have to let go of trying to rigidly control the process and the outcome via this overpowering brain of mine and thus force myself into a mold of my own devising.

Instead, I have to release control and accept that I have to walk whatever path is before me, without knowing exactly where it leads, and even just follow my heart sometimes.

Even the thought of doing something purely because I feel like it, without knowing if that feeling is “true” or “right” or “smart”, scares the hell out of me and makes me break out in a cold sweat.

But I have been taking the easiest path for way too long and it has gotten me absolutely nowhere. I want to build up my courage instead, and learn to fight the urge to try to hide from life until it goes way.

It is never going away until the day I die, and if I want to get some living done before that, and show the world just how amazing I truly am, I am going to have to learn to fight the current and get my ass upstream, no matter how hard I have to row.

Hopefully, with Wellbutrin’s help, I will find a way to get on with my life at last.

I can’t wait.