There are different qualities that depression can take. Sometimes it is a raging pain, and sometimes it is invisible numbness. The differences are very important because they cannot be treated the same. While both are dangerous, the numbness seems to be particularly sticky because it involves a conscious loss of hope and an inability to get it back (I reference that it feels like I have to “trick” myself out of it) due to the silence of the heart. Sometimes feeling nothing is worse than feeling pain.
I wrote this on an evening when I could sense that my moods were going down and that I was losing hope. It is a terrifying feeling to fall into the abyss, and I find it easier to be in the low and know that “we can only go up from here”.
Okay, well then I feel empty
and then I finally see that this feeling never leaves.
Like the slow blink to stare,
When you can tell that someone has already died.
Writing does cheapen the experience,
but what richness is there to be had in a lonely silence?
I could lie and tell you
that it fuels my creative fires.
Like the deadwood stacked
in the winter winds.
But that wood is from the valley,
That is after the fall,
When I can finally sink into
the swampy mess of my mood.
There I can find food in the pain.
on the nothing ground
where nothing pushes back.
Here is just an enveloping dull ache.
Like that thing you always forget
when you feel something nagging.
“Is this all a lie?”
Some giant spectacle with no audience,
Do we believe the play?
I know I can fake it,
And that I will again.
But right now I find no self,
No reality, and no ounce of desire
to trick myself into believing
that hope exists.
So what do you expect Sarah? What do you want? If nothing exists then the option is yours. If you don’t exist then you can’t lack any of the insights you’d need.
I’ll slip into an ocean of sleep and wake up on a different shore to walk this path again.