And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~ Kahlil Gibran



Monday, August 02, 2010

I've Lost My Way

Sometimes, I wake up and realise that I have wandered off the path. I can see where I want to be, but it is so far off. There is a wilderness of dangers between here and there, and I doubt my courage. I doubt my strength. I wonder if it is even worth it to fight my way back.

I know that here is a bad place. It is scary, and dark. I know that I will not be able to survive here very long. But here is, in a way, easy. This is where I am pulled, as if by a magnetic force. Every time I stop fighting to stay there, I somehow slide over to here. Or maybe here sneaks up and surrounds me when I stop chasing after there. I haven't actually watched the transition happen, so I am not quite sure what happens when I am not looking.

Here doesn't take any effort, because nothing matters here. Here steals your loves, your hates, your passions. Here steals your desires, your fears, dreams. Yet it gives one amazing gift. Nothingness. Numbness. Apathy.

Over there, things matter. Over there, I care. Over there, I work hard. I work hard, not just at the things that matter when I am there, but also at just staying there. When I am there, I worry about doing right, about doing my best, about making things work. Over there I plan for the future, I dream beautiful dreams, I suffer crushing disappointments. There is where people live.

I don't think that there is my place. If I was meant to be there - where things are beautiful and ugly and loud and quiet and soft and rough - rather than here - where everything is muffled and grey - I don't believe it would be so hard to stay there. I think maybe there doesn't want me. Here does. Here follows me, embraces me, even stalks me in a totally creepy way.

I know the way back. I am even pretty sure I have the strength to get there. It just seems like so much work to get there, only to have to fight to stay there. Wouldn't it be smarter to stay here? It seems like such a futile effort to keep fighting to be there, only to be constantly pulled back here.

I am planning one more escape from here. I know it is what I am supposed to do. Maybe somewhere along the way, I will find some enthusiasm for the journey, but right now I am looking at the long road ahead of me with nothing stronger than resignation. I don't see the point. I have lost faith that I will ever be able to stay there, so all the effort I am planning on putting into getting there seems like a big waste.

I am going to try.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

This breaks my heart.

You express yourself beautifully, eloquently. It may be the most lucid description of depression I've ever read.

But it still breaks my heart. My wife struggles with depression. It's an insidious illness. To me, it's a lot like Alzheimer's, because in some ways it's harder on family and friends than on the person who has it.

I lay in bed at night, knowing that my One True Love - the person I searched so hard for, the person I waited so long to find - is right next to me. And yet... when she is where you are, she has no love to give. Nothing for me, nothing for herself, or anyone, or any thing. She is like a ghost. Or maybe the opposite of a ghost. A body who's spirit has gone missing.

I've gotten past resentment, long beyond feeling that she's being selfish for staying in The Pit of Despair, even though the exit is well marked and well lit. I think I have come to understand the magnitude and the nature of the struggle.

But it's not so much despair. Despair is a feeling, like joy. I think the opposite of both is apathy.

I know it sucks, but I am glad you are going to fight through it again. Sometimes it's like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.

But at some point, you will have some happy moment, and you will remember why you are doing it all over again. At least that's my prayer.

Deb said...

Wishing you strength and persistence in your journey to there. I feel like I've been walking the line myself lately, and I need to get back into running, playing music, and everything else that makes me happy.

Hopeful said...

thank you for the honesty and sharing. i felt as if you were writing for me. perhaps many of us are going through struggles, although i don't want to try and take away the uniqueness and difficulty of your own. but, remember, as with any feeling, it WILL pass. depression has a way of whispering in our ear and telling us it will ALWAYS be pointless and things will NEVER change. dont' believe it. keep doing what you know you need to do and you will wake up again. i'm pushing through myself right now. take care.

Kelli said...

(((Hugs))). I will be thinking about you as you work through this.

Hopeful said...

i stumbled upon this just now while looking for a photo for my next blog entry. i felt you might enjoy and benefit from it. i hope. http://www.healingwomeninpain.com/2010/07/27/sleeping-on-cloud-10/

Lynne at Hasty Brook said...

Thinking about you today and hoping you're feeling better.
Hang in there.

Alecto said...

oh, sweetheart, maybe your place is neither here nor there. Maybe the there you reach for isn't yours but I know for sure that the here isn't for any of us. Not at all. I understand completely and when I find myself in the here I find a way out (so far, right?) and the way out isn't anything I'm particularly attached to so it might be something I've no idea about at all (which is the useful bit about nothing - no thing - you invent or move through from the no thing).

So when I find myself in the here I get up and grab a shovel. I go outside and dig a hole. I harvest something, I plant something. I commune with the chickens and think about nothing but this one very moment and slowly but surely I come about to something that is no longer here.

I also try not to fight the here so much anymore. Takes too much energy and is horribly discouraging. But you do have to get up and propel forward into something.

Wow. That was a bit out there, wasn't it? I never comment out here, I just read, I guess I'm a lot less quiet on my own blog and I hate to disturb.

but... sweetheart, yes you can.

Love, Alecto

Katie Nave said...

Have you seen the movie Equilibrium? Your post reminded me how the drug they take seems so reasonable - keep everyone on an even keel and eliminate the extreme downs and stresses. But without the downs, we can't appreciate the ups for how great they actually are! Hang in there darling - life is tough but at least you are paying attention along the way.