The precipice
After all the anticipation of finally celebrating an anniversary it was done energetically and in style. Even the mornings went well and after a few early coffees you wouldn't have known anything was wrong with me at all. We had a great time relaxing and indulging ourselves and it was sad that it had to end. But I suppose reality is tough even when it does not reach the extremes I have become accustomed to recently.
Monday was a tougher assignment. I started to come down from the caffeinated high but was still able to make a morning party I was hosting for my daughter's birthday. After hosting the party, and having a full day of activity besides this, I started to run out of steam before dinner. It was becoming very difficult just to get the job done but I got there in the end - just.
Today was worse. I slept for most of the afternoon and only came back to life (after living in a wakeful haze) at about 9pm. Now I feel almost ready to go on with life but the day is over. I've slept most of it so am not tired. I feel like doing something, perhaps anything, but just can't be bothered with any notion that comes to mind (from reading, writing, watching a DVD, going for a walk, visiting the 24 hour department store, chatting with my wife). It all just seems a bit too hard. I know it's the depression because I am so familiar with it yet still some part of me asks that nagging question about laziness and lack of discipline.
Sometimes it is hard accepting I have depression and that the symptoms are not in my control. I often feel discouraged about the ongoing uncertainties and wasted days too. It's also hard to convince myself that it's not worth dwelling on even when I know it couldn't be helped. It is far too easy to be drawn towards that dark precipice in my mind and to fall over and then free fall into ruminating on things that kill my soul. It's such an alluring prospect to seek solace in self pity, self deprecation, and catastrophising about life. There is a definite sparkle at the edge of that precipice to every sordid object of my thoughts even though I know it's only fool's gold.
I am beginning to think that my mind is just like an adventurer. When it's idle it gets edgy and looks for excitment and activities to fulfill it. It wanders searchingly, looking for danger and conquest on its path, and finds comfort not simply in fulfilling its mental wanderlust by journeying through the darkest recesses but moreso when it confronts real dangers of the mind and soul. When it reaches that precipice in my mind where it knows there is a danger to my soul if I stand to near the edge and topple over - or dive off.
Unlike most things in my life at least the path of my mind is in my control. Whichever way I go I know I have chosen it. The path I choose determines whether I suffer from my illness alone or confront groanings of my soul that numb and sour all other contemplation in my life.
Monday was a tougher assignment. I started to come down from the caffeinated high but was still able to make a morning party I was hosting for my daughter's birthday. After hosting the party, and having a full day of activity besides this, I started to run out of steam before dinner. It was becoming very difficult just to get the job done but I got there in the end - just.
Today was worse. I slept for most of the afternoon and only came back to life (after living in a wakeful haze) at about 9pm. Now I feel almost ready to go on with life but the day is over. I've slept most of it so am not tired. I feel like doing something, perhaps anything, but just can't be bothered with any notion that comes to mind (from reading, writing, watching a DVD, going for a walk, visiting the 24 hour department store, chatting with my wife). It all just seems a bit too hard. I know it's the depression because I am so familiar with it yet still some part of me asks that nagging question about laziness and lack of discipline.
Sometimes it is hard accepting I have depression and that the symptoms are not in my control. I often feel discouraged about the ongoing uncertainties and wasted days too. It's also hard to convince myself that it's not worth dwelling on even when I know it couldn't be helped. It is far too easy to be drawn towards that dark precipice in my mind and to fall over and then free fall into ruminating on things that kill my soul. It's such an alluring prospect to seek solace in self pity, self deprecation, and catastrophising about life. There is a definite sparkle at the edge of that precipice to every sordid object of my thoughts even though I know it's only fool's gold.
I am beginning to think that my mind is just like an adventurer. When it's idle it gets edgy and looks for excitment and activities to fulfill it. It wanders searchingly, looking for danger and conquest on its path, and finds comfort not simply in fulfilling its mental wanderlust by journeying through the darkest recesses but moreso when it confronts real dangers of the mind and soul. When it reaches that precipice in my mind where it knows there is a danger to my soul if I stand to near the edge and topple over - or dive off.
Unlike most things in my life at least the path of my mind is in my control. Whichever way I go I know I have chosen it. The path I choose determines whether I suffer from my illness alone or confront groanings of my soul that numb and sour all other contemplation in my life.
posted by Blackdog at 11:33 PM
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