In what seems like a year of personal madness the last couple of months have been the worst. Vulnerability long forgotten and I thought long since past dots my days. It has been about depression but that seems such a sterile small word for the weight that seems there with every breathe and every thought. It has not been the madness that doctors pass out pills for but a desperation of the soul that leaves me in search of different places, anywhere where there is light and day.
All of us have our own personal demons and those demons define what is necessary for survival. Those are the things we feel like we must have to survive and make it. And we defend these things from all doubt and question. They are what we strive for. They are our real idols and real purposes.
They are our solutions to the problem of living and for me at least it is there where I have found my unseen prison. The things that define my only options define how I see and leave me drowning unaware of the waves. It is not life that is the real problem but those things I do to solve it that lead me crippled, imprisoned and shattered. It the things that make me feel good, the things that hold off threat and danger, the things that when all else fails help me to not feel at all, that define what it means to feel normal to me. And it is my pursuit of normal that destroys me.
Nothing is everything and I have let some things become all. I have hurt my family drastically in my efforts to cope and “do my best.” That is what I am most sorry about. I have heard you write that being human means having an infinite capacity for doing stupid things and you are right. I have convinced myself of the sense of things that have no sense.
The sky is not falling. I have pulled it down around myself. And maybe tomorrow if I can let go at least a little I can once again see the light.