Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Inside Words ... aka Going off my Antidepressants

Dig your way out with words. Lift one up and put it down. Keep digging, we’re not even close yet. Totally trapped in this cave of insanity. Everything is coming at me, covered in a heavy layer of dusty madness. Try to brush it off but that just gets it under the skin. I can’t get it off in here. There is no clean air, there is no cleansing water. It is stale and hot and I can’t breathe. Why would my mind put me here? How did I even get here? Am I so weak to change? Something is different and everything falls through these cracks. I can’t remember it all! I have too much to remember. Sneakers, music, pass, food, kid’s clothes, so much. Routine keeps it all together. Change it and I get locked in this cave.

How the hell do I get out of here? I’m so lost and broken. So broken. Covered in cracks that the dust get in to. How can I get out? Lift another word, maybe? Look, you won’t get out just by sitting in here and wishing for a way out, wishing and lamenting on how broken you are. Another layer of dust. Screams to get it off. Want to squirm and cry out, writhe on the ground to get it off but that won’t help. It won’t help! So deal with it. Screaming WON’T HELP! Deal with it, Empress. Get past this. Why does it feel like I can’t?

Find a way. Find a way and we’ll get out of here. Just want to get out of here. Please… crying won’t help, either. The rage, the sadness, the anxiety – none of that will free you. I can hear it raining on the other side of the rock wall. If I could just get to it. . . just get out of this cave that I can never seem to escape from.

Lift another word. They are so heavy and there are too many. I’m a tornado in a cave. I can spin all I want and cause intense destruction, but I will still be stuck here when I burn out. I can scratch at the rocks but that will just leave me sore and bloody. It won’t change. Then how do I get out? Physical prowess doesn’t matter here.

Everything that makes up this wall is small and awkward. There are no short cuts. No way to lift more than one at a time. So, there must be only one way, then. Persistence. If I just keep doing it, I’ll get out of here. Just keep breathing. Even though you’re covered with the dust. If feels thick and heavy, it feels suffocating, but there will never be enough to seize you into immobility as long as you keep moving. Keep moving, keep digging. If you stop, if you use your energy in the bursts of frustration you will get no further and only lose precious strength and time.

Focus, come with me. Keep lifting. Go through it, and the pile becomes larger behind you than in front of you. The rocks are now damp with that rain you so desire. If you just keep going, keep things going slowly, you will get there.

Don’t let a quick fix seduce you. Don’t give into the anger. The anger is so raw. It is not a normal anger. It is a ferocious rage. Can’t stress enough how powerful this anger is to someone who has never know it. And how seductive. That release that comes when you give in. When you finally explode and let free the destruction. It is tempting, even more so in this cave. Keeping it back, forcing yourself to keep digging slowly and carefully, is a battle so few experience, and even fewer understand.

Frustration. That’s a heavy one to lift. It’s the root of all of this, isn’t it? All of me, all of this madness. What a horrible thought, to think that your core is nothing but a knotted ball of twisted metal. No, there must be more to me than that. Pick up that word and move it away. So close now. But it falls, it’s so heavy and wet, and crushes part of me as it lands. But that’s okay. It marks me up on the outside, bruises and scars, makes me bleed tears of blood and water, but it does not penetrate. It’s an outside word. And that’s what I’m digging through. The outside words. The words that try to hurt and keep you buried in this horrible place.

Keep digging. Cry if you must, but keep digging. The rocks are smaller now. But the rain from outside is making them slippery. It’s hard to get a grip. The dark rain is what you seek, but remember that bit of Sunny you once had in your life. The last 5% is often the hardest, and most important.

A small tumble of stones. You have moved so many big ones, the little ones are tumbling down on their own now. Falling around your feet as you walk over them. And you are walking over them. We’re not going that deep into this cave EVER AGAIN! We’re going to get out of here for good. We’re going to focus on the inside words. Strength, compassion, joy and love.

The hole is now big enough to squirm through. There are a few words that dig in, leaving scratches that will take a while to heal, but they will heal. You’ve made it out. The air is fresh and cool. The rain washes all the dust away. It melts off your skin, pooling on the ground below. You are shining in this clean water. The dust from the misery is gone. Some got under the skin and will be there for more than a day, more than a week and even more than a month, but it will be pushed out. My body will cleanse itself of the murky madness. The inside words will purge all that is left of the outside ones. The ones I had to dig through to get clean again. To get back to me.

1 comment:

  1. As someone that is trying to develop my own writing, and having also experienced first hand how internal struggles can weigh on us- be it personal, family, or friends- I enjoyed this piece quite a bit. I've felt for a long time that writing IS the best medicine (I suppose next to having a nice supportive network of people) for curing any stressful head-space situation.

    Keep up the awesome work!! Your style is quite poetic and refreshing :)

    -Regards, another Constant Reader