Back at work after a four-day weekend people asked me how I’m doing, how was my weekend and I said I was fine and my weekend was great or that I was great and my weekend was fine and truly my body feels fantastic and on the weekend I celebrated Thanksgiving with various family and I went to a basketball game and to a movie and had runs of seven and nine miles and all that was all good but lord did I suffer.
Depression. The whole time. Managed to distract it at times for a time but it was there always and persistent like being in pain and that pain is still with me and is awful and the experiment of not taking meds is officially over that shit did not work as I can tell by my monumental sorrow and misery that has been all encompassing for five full days non stop thank god it allows me to sleep and to have nice dreams and I was able to teach today like I was the world’s happiest man which I’m not unfortunately: “Fountain of sorrow, fountain of light, You've known that hollow sound of your own steps in flight” sang Jackson Browne but that song was not about the unceasing pounding of melancholia and the way depression wraps its tentacles around your brain and surely this cannot go on forever but I’ll be damned if I can remember what happiness feels like.
Happiness. There is that in the world. I have that vague memory of genuine smiles and laughter that lingers and kisses and leaping for joy and holding your precious and sitting comfortably content. Ahh contentment. Just to be satisfied to be sated to be all right. To really be able to say you feel “fine” and mean it. But this….I want out of this. Escape.
Running fast it can’t catch me and I can outwit it and I can slap it hard and knock it down and subdue it and conquer it and prevail and live on with out stalking me. Liberated. A free man. Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe. Some day. Soon even. Gone. Only me and the real feelings not the artificial sorrow created by this monster.
Have to believe, have to conceive. Have to. Have to. Have to. Remember the good times and the hope and the accomplishments and the gifts of life and the ability to dance metaphorically and be me and feel good about it.
This can’t last. Or I won’t. Reckoning coming. The big showdown. Me versus the miseries. No more grappling. Just winning and grinning. Gotta happen.