Who was the writer (was it Edgar Allen Poe) who wrote about ‘the dark night of the soul’. Last night I wished for even some weed to knock me out. It’s a goddamn torture to lie awake for hours, wishing that I could bring on a heart attack just by will alone.
There is a drug used by South American tribes which users say makes you relive every wrong thing you have ever done or said and feel the pain that the person who you said it to or did it to felt. This supposedly cleanses you.
I don’t need that drug. In my dark nights, I am pounded, over and over again with everything I have ever said and done. Even things which are simply dumb things that were more embarrassing than hurtful, become heavier and heavier.
I have told myself that when I am in depression, I need to isolate myself so that I don’t do or say something to add to later regret. I have enough experience with mental pain to know that anything I do or say in these periods will be irrational. But, I do have to interact with people at work, make decisions, etc. Invariably everything I do will leave me pounding myself “why the fuck did I say that?’
So, another sleepless night, wishing I could take back everything and start my whole life’s slate clean and rational. Should I take the plunge, go back on the anti-depressants, become a zombie again? Should I go back to smoking weed? Should I just say “fuck it” and find ways to isolate myself even deeper?
I don’t have the energy to re-read this to correct errors – who gives a shit about grammar and spelling anyway?
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Hey Automedon2,
I also become reclusive during down times…more for other’s sake as well…but atleast you know you are not always rational when you’re hurting eh? That’s a start. Now when you are in a dark night of the soul…try working on forgiving yourself for past transgression…understand that your past is just that…you can’t fix it, change it, but you can forgive it…and forgive yourself. When we know better…we do better. Give up some old out dated ideas and beliefs and learn some new ones…maybe even a new coping skill or two. Use it as an opportunity to change. Which reminds me…
Change
by ellen bass
This is where I yank the old roots from my chest,
like the tomatoes we let grow until december, stalks thick as saplings.
This is the moment when ancient fears race like thoroughbreds,
asking for more and more rein and I the driver for some reason
they know nothing of, strain to hold them back.
Terror grips me like a virus and I sweat
fevered trying to burn it out.
This fear is invisable, all you can see is a woman going about
her ordinary day, drinking tea, taking herself to the movies,
reading in bed.
If victorious, I will look exactly the same yet I am hoisting a car
from mud ruts half a century deep. I am hacking a clearing
through the fallen slash of my heart.
Without laser precision, with only the primitive knife of need,
I cut and splice the circuitry of my brain.
I change.
Peace
Ama