The Truth about Dragons

 

Just in case you can accept it now, let me sketch in the truth of “mental illness.”

We all live in bubbles. These bubbles are our assumptions about ourselves, the world around us, and our place in it. Call it our narrative. Outside it is the real world as it is.

We cannot, in principle, experience the real world directly. Kant, for one, has demonstrated this; so have Descartes, Berkeley, Plato. All we can do is strive to make our account of it as accurate as possible: to keep the bubble transparent.

When the bubble instead becomes opaque, like an egg shell, we have a “mental illness.” 

Madness is a matter of being relatively disconnected from objective reality. Didn’t we always know this? Hasn’t modern psychiatry only obscured this?

There are two ways the bubble can become opaque. One is if we choose to believe lies, because we find them more to our liking that the truth. Another is that those around us have been lying to us.

These two possibilities define the two opposite types of mental illness. We might call them hubris and melancholia— to avoid common psychiatric terms, which come with distracting theoretical baggage.

Notice that the hubristic type, who spins lies, is likely to produce the melancholic type, who has been lied to.

Either condition will experience grief and anxiety. The hubristic will be constantly frustrated with and in paranoid flight from reality, which does not recognize to their wishes.  The melancholic will be constantly frustrated by inconsistencies in the narrative, so that reality does not seem to make sense.

In either case, a sudden trauma can precipitate a crisis: that is, if reality suddenly disproves the accepted narrative. A crack appears in the cosmic egg. Then you get violent denial, cognitive dissonance, mental confusion, or psychosis.

The solution, in every case, is to preemptively doubt the entire narrative, and start again from first principles.

This is a terrifying thing to do. It is the ultimate leap in the dark.

Shall we?