I’ve suffered a serious setback in my treatment–a weekend of bad depression, which I tried to ignore by watching football all day, followed by a day of horrific depression, which I dealt with by sitting on the couch with my head clutched in one hand while agony coursed through me.
I sometimes think of the Lou Reed song “Waves of Fear” at times like this. Not because the lyrics match what I feel (they don’t) but because the last line is “I know where I must be I must be in hell.”
I really thought I had put this kind of thing behind me. “That’s so 2024; this is 2025.” I’m deeply unsettled by how wrong I was. I’m recovering–I started feeling better late Monday afternoon–but it feels very fragile. I had something close to an anxiety attack yesterday but was able to deal with it by taking some old anti-anxiety medication I no longer take but have kept around (I’m sure you can guess why) and listening to soothing music with my eyes closed. Today, again, I feel things might go either way.
Martin Luther King once said “I’ve been to the mountaintop.” I’ve been to the abyss, to the heart of the black hole, where the only thing that exists is pain. Anguish, despair, self-hatred, terror, frustration, helplessness. I know this sounds very dramatic, but when I have these experiences they are very powerful and often terrifying.
The phrase “and I only am escaped alone to tell thee” (Job via Herman Melville) sometimes enters my thoughts. I don’t know why–who else is there to escape? Maybe it’s because the image of a lone survivor staggering away from the wreckage resonates with me. Weak, fearful, and in shock. Traumatized.
I wonder how long it will take me to recover from the trauma this time?
How many more episodes like this can I take? Surely I have a breaking point…
Black Hole Radiation 