After nearly 25 years of diagnosed clinical depression, the steps I take into that cold water are no less chilling. You find yourself slowly backing away from the interactions I usually enjoy. I find yourself stepping closer to those dark thoughts of selfishness and jealousy. For those of you that may not understand the battle is most definitely real. Outwardly your mask is all polished and shiny, but inwardly your just a giant mass of cross wired circuits waiting to explode. At a certain point you grow tired of apologizing to yourself and to others. You simply retreat into the covey hole you’ve created for yourself. Where for the most part you can just ignore the waves of depression until they just go away.
I guess you can say I’ve been “blessed” with the ability to articulate my thoughts onto the screen. Like some poet in reverse I can describe the many splintered thoughts that cross my mind. For the most part I don’t mind exploring the murky waters that surround my soul. Call it the fatalist in me, but I am often fascinated with my own inadequacies. Relishing in my own shortcomings like some blessed badge of honor. Some of us just enjoy being different I guess. We find solace in the slight imperfections that make us unique.
So in this season of discomfort I walk the broken pier that is my life. Looking out over the low tide I see the mud and the muck that lies just below the surface. It ain’t pretty and it certainly doesn’t smell good, but it's a subtle reminder of what lies below the shimmering surface. Imperfect yet somehow uniquely mine. I have no defense against my demons other than my sharp tongue and twisted empathy. Long suppressed emotions are but a staple of my diet. I’m too damn long in the tooth to change my spots now. So I won’t pretend to even try anymore. I’ll just continue to star in my own Greek tragedy. Till the tide again changes and I can once again enjoy the sun.
I guess you can say I’ve been “blessed” with the ability to articulate my thoughts onto the screen. Like some poet in reverse I can describe the many splintered thoughts that cross my mind. For the most part I don’t mind exploring the murky waters that surround my soul. Call it the fatalist in me, but I am often fascinated with my own inadequacies. Relishing in my own shortcomings like some blessed badge of honor. Some of us just enjoy being different I guess. We find solace in the slight imperfections that make us unique.
So in this season of discomfort I walk the broken pier that is my life. Looking out over the low tide I see the mud and the muck that lies just below the surface. It ain’t pretty and it certainly doesn’t smell good, but it's a subtle reminder of what lies below the shimmering surface. Imperfect yet somehow uniquely mine. I have no defense against my demons other than my sharp tongue and twisted empathy. Long suppressed emotions are but a staple of my diet. I’m too damn long in the tooth to change my spots now. So I won’t pretend to even try anymore. I’ll just continue to star in my own Greek tragedy. Till the tide again changes and I can once again enjoy the sun.
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