So when I sit down to write a blog I often go through my hand-written journal and clean up those entries to become blog posts. Today I've been drawn to a journal I wrote on Sunday. Saturday night, for reasons I feel no need to share, I fell into a very bleak depression that lasted about 24 hours. Insomnia, nausea, the whole bit. An emotional low point that I haven't experienced since at least last December. This is what I wrote about it:
It's astounding how nine months of progress and healing are ripped to bloody shreds in mere moments, violently exposing the horrific putrid wounds underneath. Wounds as fresh and painful now as they were when first inflicted.
People will tell you that things will get better and that time heals all wounds. These people are liars. All the pain and self-doubt and crushing feelings of abandonment stay with you forever, constantly eating away at the tender flesh that was once your heart until all that remains is a gaping black hole filled with broken shards of glass and rusty razor blades. Time heals all wounds. Bah! Things never improve with time. All things break down, corrode and simply fall apart. The only hope is that somehow you'll get used to the pain and learn to function with your new, emotionally maimed state of being.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
Please let me die before I wake
For one more day I can not take.
By Sunday night I was exhausted and emotionally drained. I fell asleep early. Monday morning I awoke fresh and upbeat. I'd gotten all the rot out of my system and made my peace with it, at least as much as I ever can. I was in a good mood and happy to see a cardinal and a groundhog in a field. In other words, I took simple pleasure from my surroundings. The person I was on Sunday when I wrote the above journal had simply vanished and a more well balanced personality had emerged. Do I believe the above gloomy sentiment? I'm not sure. The person I am right now says no, there's always hope and life goes on. However the person I was on Sunday was certainly writing from a place of conviction. It just amazes me how emotion can so severely affect the human psyche. All the same data is present, but the conclusions drawn are vastly different. It makes me wonder how well I can ever know another person when I'm constantly surprised by my own self. Who am I, really?
Oh well I guess it keeps life interesting. Sometimes I'd prefer a more even keel. Of course, if I had that, I might have to rename the blog "Stryder's Sane, Rational Thoughts." Doesn't have the same ring.
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