My old friend came to visit me once again today. He came while I was riding along, thinking about nothing particular at all beyond the beauty of the leaves on the trees. I suppose I may have been thinking about how the leaves had yet to die, telling myself some optimistic story about their coming into life, and surviving past the odds. I stopped, feeling his presence nearby. Perhaps those trees have survived for now, but for what? he seemed to ask. Just a stretched-out subsistence in the cold until they too pass away.
I turned to face him, the demon that crowds my mind. I greeted him as I often do, knowing the power he will hold over me. I could battle for my own consciousness, or I could submit to his devilish power once again. My weapon quickly came to hand, Rosie singing her sweet tune to cheer me. Rather than attack, he simply smiled, and waited.
No, no. Move along, dear demon. I am content now. I am content here. Do not cross that line in the sand, demon. Rosie’s music will keep you away. She is my friend. We will win this fight together.
The spirit before me only grew in strength as I began to sing. I could see him, and I stood my ground. It seemed as though his darkness began to be released from underneath his feet, reaching out to me with a red aura that speaks to the malice in his heart. Rosie fought tooth and nail, constantly in battle. The darkness stayed on its side of the line, with Rosie and I on the other, hoping that line would not break.
Thoughts, like a crowded circus tent, erupted in my mind in amazement, confusion, and disarray. My brain wandered everywhere at once, gathering little as it explored a thousand small worries and then a thousand more. As my mind began to wander, Rosie’s song became weaker. Soon, I could not speak. The words dried on my tongue, and would not be released for all the water in heaven and on earth.
The darkness came closer, until it surrounded me. The demon laughed, as I began to kneel before him. I felt my spirit torn from my flesh, and the darkness began to overwhelm me. I watched as the demon took who I am and put that soul in a cage, not to be released until he had had his way with my body.
Suddenly, he overwhelmed me. I faced the world alone, and all of the love I had within me was gone. I cared for nothing, and the only emotions I could experience were the numbness that comes after death, and the deep fear of what that demon might do to the soul still locked in that cage. I looked to the world and nothing was beautiful. Nothing was good. Nothing was worthwhile. Blinded by this darkness, everything in life that made it worth living was suddenly gone. And here I stood, left alone, my only companion the darkness all around.
I wish that there were words for the fear present in that moment. I knew that I am in control of my mind, even if the darkness surrounds me. It is still me there, though my spirit seems to have stolen from me. Everything is just covered in that darkness, as if I had somehow survived the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius and could only examine the encrusted remains of the city I had once loved. It is sadness. But it is so much more than sadness.
This demon has never delighted in causing me to take action. I am not sure if his brothers and sisters are better trained in the art of destruction, or if the one who haunts me is just particularly sadistic. He delights in watching me attempt to function. Perhaps he keeps a tally of all the times I have avoided answering how I am doing, for fear of revealing that he is present. Or of all the times when someone has offered to help, and I have turned them down because I know it will pass, eventually. Or watching as the people with whom I finally share the secret give up trying to help at all.
Perhaps the greatest evil is that his brothers and sisters seem to plague us all, in different ways. So many of us feel the darkness, but they draw the shroud so deeply over our faces that no one can see one another clearly enough to detect the black eyes they leave. How dispensable our bodies are to these intruders! Thrown off of buildings and out of moving cars, swinging from nooses and painting the walls in crimson. Over and over, they overwhelm and consume us.
Now he laughs, thinking that he has me once again. But inside my cage, I am now the one laughing. He thinks he waited long enough, but I can wait longer. When released from this cage, I will be the one who rips the veil in two and declares to the world:
BEHOLD, THIS, MY DEMON: HIS NAME IS DEPRESSION.
I will do it. I will face the world, and I will stand, proud, against his darkness as it approaches. I will sing with Rosie loudly, and join the chorus of voices of those who have heard my song and tear off their own veils. Together, we can win.
But the demon laughs again. Sure. His only reply.
And I know in my heart that he is right, once again. I have been given the chance, again and again to expose his violence. To tell the world of my abuser. To declare him dead and gone in my life. But I have submitted, over and over again, because he is so powerful.
So, I become numb. I wait him out, return my soul to my body, and once again, I do nothing.
Day 8: Nineteen hundred and six miles to home. How many left to find me? I don’t really know.
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