Monday, October 24, 2011


For no obvious reason I could determine, I popped out of my nine-month suicidal depression for a little over two weeks, but they ended precipitously on October 13, curiously the anniversary date of Kathleen leaving me when I was manic.

I was lying on the couch listening to her singing as she cooked.  Then I thought, "What if I were to lose her?"  Then without warning, though I tried to hold on, I felt myself spiraling back to oblivion where I have been since, an oblivion worse for having tasted normality ever so briefly.

This is a puzzling disease.  I was myself for two weeks, then suddenly I am not--lost again in the morass of unendurable self-annihilating miasma, back to suicidal thoughts, complete disorganization of the mind, the horrors, the inability to make a decision, lack of interest in all things, terrified of everything and nothing.

Nothing really changed except my mood, but I must have been extremely vulnerable, and I don't know if the anniversary reaction helped trigger it or not.

Now I am toughing it out again, have gone back on antipsychotics for survival's sake, and today, thank God, I was a little less worse than yesterday.

Back to 6 Kilorats,


Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Surviving Depression

Accept. Endure.
By acceptance you de-fang the monster of the mid-brain who dwells in your very DNA, the inevitable inheritance of the reptile within, which accuses us constantly of failure in our dark times.

Depression is an evil in need of healing. To accept evil is not to bow to evil; to deny evil is to bow. The devil cannot fool those who believe in him.

The chief human problem is not lust, or desire, as Buddha averred, no--it is imperfection, how we hold ourselves accountable for aspects of our nature ungoverned by will, how we punish ourselves for lacking the wisdom to avoid tragedy only after the tragedy has passed. There is no predestination but living out our natures. To suffer our brokenness is the ultimate acceptance, knowing the self that survives is the true self, undeterred by the opinions of others, immune to reputation, inured to criticism (though always ready to examine itself if not mood-impaired).

Too many fail at suffering because they lack endurance. Suffering begs for the easy way out, whether by religion or a bottle of booze. Unendurable pain can be endured; if not, the human body will pass into unconsciousness. The worst part of suffering is fear: fear makes pain more painful in its apprehension. This is living in the future. All we can bear is the present. If we can endure the present for one more minute, we can endure for another, and stitching minutes together we can endure for as long as required.

In the case of a good man, suffering is rarely deserved. To link behavior to just deserts is a fatal mirage, one that Job shattered. One must accept illogical, individualized suffering as no more than one’s due in this life. Humility demands this.

Blaming God for our suffering diminishes him; blaming ourselves feeds our narcissism; blaming others is futile, they are only agents. What we can do is endure, when all pride is gone, when all options are spent, when suicide endeavors to seduce us with a false peace.

Accept. Endure.

Thine at 1 Kilobunny,

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