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catsidheAgain that dark and midnight dog
out of skulking shadow comes
baleful eye upon me fixed
to still that bright and shining fire
which burns to ward away the night;
that night which brings not restful sleep
but racking wretched wakefulness,
which hides the creeping devils
and crushes hope of morning.
Please forgive this doggerel. haha.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-12 05:11 am (UTC)Are you feeling seasonally affected as well? The darker weather always throws me, and I tend to have my dark nights of the soul between Autumn & Winter. Especially the "Argh! What have I DONE with my life?????" moments. Or hours. For me there's nothing for it then, but to wake up properly, get up and make a cup of tea and write it all down, no matter how crazy. It helps me tame the franticness of the feeling, your own mortality, the shortness of time you have to get things done, what you haven't yet done, how you've failed yourself and everybody else in the ENTIRE WORLD... etc etc etc. Sometimes the hyperbole catches up with me and I start to laugh at myself. Sometimes I can just calm down enough to keep breathing and remember the people I love. Sometimes I can even come up with a sensible list of things to do tomorrow that will make me feel better. ;)
Writing a poem is good. What else do you do to deal with it? You're still here, and that's a sign you're doing something right, even if it doesn't feel like it!
A subjective description of living in Hell.
Date: 2007-07-12 06:06 am (UTC)I'm, as close as I can figure it, Chronically Cyclically Serotonin Deficient. That is, I am a depressive, which condition comes and goes depending on time of year, stress, hormone levels, and Eris-knows what else.
It's not just the Dark Night of the Soul, bas as that is. That is, it's not just that, but also.
It is, as I may have said before, that the Dog scythes away all the positive feelings. No hope that anything will improve. No satisfaction in a good job done. No warmth from the smile of a loved one. All the negative emotions; Anger, fear, doubt, paranoia, self-loathing, all are unabated, and surge in power when their counterparts are no longer able to counteract them. Sure, there may be the intellectual knowledge that this will pass, as it has before, but that gives no comfort (another positive emotion denied). And at times it is that intellectual process, and only that, which gives the strength to carry on.
It is the mental equivalent of running a marathon on legs which feel as if they are broken, and you can see neither other runners, nor any hint of the finish line. You might know that the finish line must exist, and this can give the bloodymindedness to keep running — staggering — crawling to the end, but that still means that you are fighting and in agony for every step of that marathon. That just putting one foot in front of the other takes a determined act of willpower, that every step is taken in agony and in faith that there will be an end, one way or the other.
And I can see where some would declare that any end to that is a good end. Myself, I've caught myself contemplating that, but have always been able to rationalise those thoughts back to where they belong. But make no mistake, the only thing that keeps one going is the thought of an end to the pain, and those thoughts of an end at any cost can get attractive. (No, I'm not suicidal. I pride myself in my mind being able to override my heart when necessary. But it still hurts, and developing that skill has crippled several other aspects of my personality. Or maybe I can do it because those parts are crippled... I don't know.)
The other problem is that the inner world overwhelms the outer. All interactions are filtered through a foggy haze of pain and confusion and doubt and fear. Keeping a happy face is a lie. Keeping a civil, polite face is a lie. Simple human interaction is a lie. This is why many under the dog go away and hide, they can't bear putting on a mask with spikes on the inside, because twisting your face into a smile hurts, too. I have caught myself considering (and even carrying out) self harm, in the hope that pain of the body can distract from the all-consuming pain of the soul.
I'm going on and on, aren't I. I think I get slightly manic when the dog is on me. Maybe it is just beating the cage bars, dunno.
At least I'm better than I was yesterday.
Re: A subjective description of living in Hell.
Date: 2007-07-13 02:11 am (UTC)It sounds as though your main ways of getting through are using your intellect to understand what is happening to you, and will power. Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Also, while in pain you still seem to recognise the value of those things - satisfaction, good work, love, kindness - if only intellectually, or you seem to know from experience that you'll feel them again.
I'm sorry it hurts. I can barely imagine, really, how this must feel while it lasts. It'll probably bring you no pleasure right now, but store this up for when it does: if you can do the things that you know need to be done each day, and treat people with kindness while you yourself are feeling so utterly rotten, then you have every reason to feel proud of yourself. If you can't feel that for yourself right now, then I can feel it 'for' you until you can. :)
Re: A subjective description of living in Hell.
Date: 2007-07-13 02:33 am (UTC)Re: A subjective description of living in Hell.
Date: 2007-07-13 02:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-12 09:51 am (UTC)I know where you are at honey.
I feel it.
Poem rocks, by the way. Even in a funny, dark, cynical kind of way.