Mental Illness or mental Health, where do we draw the line, or do we? The answer for me lies somewhere behind those dark glasses of the self-portrait I drew of myself in the early nineties. Truths are hidden there known only by me. It goes something like this: It would not be mentally healthy if I decided to admit that I drew the portrait with help from technology.
It is easily recognized as being yours truly and I was able to render it so because an error in printing out a copy of a photograph resulted in a slight outline of where my features should go. Otherwise, my art ability would not have allowed me to get my nose right, my mouth in right proportions to my facial features, and it would not have been me. As it were, I looked at the real photograph and tried to copy as near as possible what I saw. At the time I liked the results and framed it, hung it on the wall and thought little of it.
What of the dark glasses though? They were items I could draw and eyes I could not. Therefore to cover up my lack of drawing skills, I covered my eyes with dark glasses. It was an easy way out of a confusing situation. What does this confession have to do with the title of this article? Everything? It says that my discomfort in perpetuating lies is healthy, that my desire to be a better artist is likewise healthy, that my self interest in using myself as subject matter is somewhat in between.
In comparison, had I kept silent about the actual rendering of the self-portrait -- even though no one probably cares -- I would be furthering my narcissism by passing off, ever so slightly, something not totally mine. To whom do I give that part of the credit? To my Creator, that is who is responsible for my features being where they are on my face, and for giving me a look that is uniquely my own. A person less given to introspection and less devoted to reality, would have passed on that one, but I chose not to do that.
In a less mentally healthy time of my life, I decided once and for all to be truthful in the small things in my life as well in the large things. That was a healthy thing to do and most likely it made a large impact on the tug of war going on between my mental health and my mental illness.That problem was settled and was out of the way. Furthering my path toward mental health was knowing what to keep untold when it was no one's business but my own. I had to weigh the risk of hurting others against my own desire to be truthful.
Therefore, my quest to be all that I can be, does not give me the right to cast shadows of doubt on others. That statement means simply that I will not be be doing any tell all stories on my journey to shed light on mental illness and to show it up for what it is. The only stories I will tell will be on myself, and when others are involved, they will in no way be blamed for anything that happened to me. My parents had their good and their bad, and I hold no grudges. That is indeed healthy, and I believe that wherever they are, that is comforting to them. Love, I believe, when the final analysis is in, must weigh in on that.
Self portraits that we paint mentally of ourselves, or in reality, should be as honest as they can be. To allow them to perpetuate lies and distortions that could distort honesty and fair dealings are wrong, and should not be allowed to detract from our mentally healthy tally sheet. Even though we cover our eyes with dark inpenetrable glasses, we can still see through our own charades. Do we want that? Not if we prefer to stay safely, if only in longing, on the mental healthy side versus the mentally ill side.
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