Man Up/Man Down

Your serotonin levels slip.

Even through the sun, you blink in only darkness.

A voice inside screams "get up, get out of bed," but no muscles move.

Your legs and arms are immobile.

The numb feeling inside your head makes no attempt to advance, jammed inside like sea-fog, stuck for the day on the coastline.

You want to enter the day, but it seems like a closed sign has been hung on every door.

You can't disengage from this or shake it off.

You need help.

You can't man up.

You are truly brave.






(posted in response to recent events underestimating the seriousness of depression)

mind games

turmoil tumble-dries driftwood
inside this minecraft mind,
set on satisfaction;
thoughts like deviating chinese whispers
swirl this snowstorm,
brewing a broken brouhaha of
flotsam and jetsam,
turning symphony cacophonous,
a scream in a beautiful dream,
for all the world
a storm in a handle-less teacup,
no pick-me-up,
hanging in the balance,
unseen.

What depression looked like today...

The black creature, looming and ready, came at me just this morning. Now it is nagging and gnawing my insides. It has grown its own arms and legs and is wrestling me endlessly, trying to pin me to the canvas. I try to preoccupy myself. A trip to the bathroom, just to wander around the building... I lock the door to be alone, but I am not alone. I am tottering under the plunging sensation, battling to stand upright as the black one drips silently into my psyche. Trying to remember the rules of engagement, I trot through my mantras-breathe deep; thought challenge; pray. Mindfully walking, I head for the stairs.

Moving on up now, still not out of the darkness, I am aching for exercise to pull the black creature off my back, but I have the rest of the day to negotiate. Class after class. Yet another tedious meeting. Players on a stage and all that...

On the commute home, the black creature accompanies me, adding to the frustration of learner drivers, road-blocks and slow moving queues. I get out of the car, ready to pick a fight with myself.

The cross-trainer and the punch-bag wait for me in the dark, cold garage. Twenty minutes is all it takes, and I have managed to emerge again. Seemingly simple. Good for a couple of hours, but late in the day the black creature tries to re-emerge. All I can mouth are the same words I used this morning: "Father, if it be possible, take this cup from me, but nevertheless let your will be done..."

When the black creature comes on me, like today, it wishes to steal something precious. A part of me that I cannot live without. But I am stronger now. I will defend myself against this invisible onslaught. My grip on hope is vice-like.