October 26, 2007

• Habit

    

  I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on
  the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the
  Stern Fact, the Sad Self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Wow. I could have written that. Well, of course I couldn't - I am not a brilliant driven white male with anti-social tendencies. Okay, I do have the anti-social tendencies.
  I think of depression as an old friend. It's always there, hiding just beneath the surface of my skin, waiting for a chance to come out and turn me into some sort of dark beast. I spend most days keeping busy because the minute I let my guard down, POW! Right in the gut. It can take a careless throwaway remark, or the sight of a dear friend talking to a sworn enemy or my children bickering one too many times --- and I am lost, spiralling until I can snatch something to haul me up out of that pit. It's exhausting. And that's on anti-depressants AND mood stabilizers.

  Fuck. Maybe there's a book in there somewhere.
  

  • 5:45 am
  • 1 Comment