“Consistency is the hallmark of the unimaginative.” ― Oscar Wilde. Between Truth and Lies

I've decided to admit to a depression. Every one is doing it, but that isn't why. I was reading recently about how it is important to be authentic, and how freeing it is to be yourself whether that may be up or down. I've always had a stiff upper lip, which meant that even when I was trudging through the pouring rain with a double buggy, or lost my brother and still had to attend the mother and toddler Christmas party the following morning, I tended to be upbeat about it and because of this was given praise for being "a brick" - "patient" - or "reliable". I have spent most of my life being all those things; yet sometimes I fail.

I have been very down for the past two years, mainly because I have moved to a new town where I don't know anybody; I had to sell and mostly give away over 600 books and my piano; this was hard. Possibly some of these things, which I decided I no longer needed, as I was being practical, would have helped me to overcome my depression. For example, the large door-stop-of-a-book, The Man Without Qualities, which I may or may not have remembered to include in my list of read books here, was only half read. I had littered the pages with notes, and remember finding it very hard to part with it. I gave it to Oxfam and remember the following day that I wanted to return and ask for it back; having once worked as a manager for Oxfam I knew that by then it would already be in a bag waiting to be picked up by somebody who offered a penny per book for books which weren't in good enough condition to grace the shelves of Oxfam. Still, I had talked myself into letting it go because if I couldn't let go of this one book which was enormous then how could I let go of all the others?
There is nothing wrong with being authentically depressed, except that it is difficult to maintain relationships. I don't ring my mother when I am feeling like this, but I do continue to ring my children and see them and of course they will notice my mood and behaviour is different; usually I am interested in things, wanting to play board games and maybe to cook. The problem with depression is that you stop doing things. I have been depressed before, when I moved to a new house and lost touch with my friends. There must be a catalyst for depression; I am not sure what it is but I would hazard a guess that it is in-authenticity. When I was feeling down after losing a job a friend suggested that I didn't smile. I thought this was interesting; anyway it made me laugh. People wanted me to smile when out of work; they expected it of me because they knew I was the manager of a local charity shop. The problem was that when I was in the shop as a professional I was playing the part of the manager and in this guise it was easy to smile and to behave appropriately. Not so easy when at home and feeling down and being at liberty to be authentic.
Smiling when you don't feel like it is counter intuitive and lifts your mood. I remember round about this time when I was down my skin suffered and a good friend kept telling me how good my skin was and how good I looked even when my skin was terrible. This had a wonderful impact on me and I wonder whether it is something they teach in cognitive therapy, as I know that he attended these sessions years ago.
Of course truth is something that grounds and centers us. I suppose we all strive for balance and honesty in our lives. My father used to tell me that to lie was the worst sin, and yet in The Bible it says that all sins are equal. Yet I am undecided about how to be authentic and to navigate the distance between truth and lies, professional and private life. Being authentic it seems, requires consistency, and yet consistency is dishonest. Life happens, intervening in time and space, even when we wish to maintain an even equilibrium. There is a quote about this somewhere. Here it is:
“Consistency is the hallmark of the unimaginative.”
― Oscar Wilde