It's nobody's problem but my own. Not on anyone else to look out for me. At least I've come that far through my depression. Not just black any more. I use bjj as a therapy for it, but that's not working now. I won't say it's adding to the problem, but it's only a distraction, and if I can't get enough of it, the black beast is right on top of me. I get a bit angry, because I know the depression is coming. Same thing, of course.
I was watching it on the way home. It's been sneaking up for a few days, and overtook me today. I stopped at a health food store and bought honey mint candies, and ate them all. An effort to comfort myself. Food and sex, right? I can do things like that, eat sweets I mean, because it's not a problem. I just wanted to feel better for a little while. No, it doesn't help. But the sweetness was nice.
I usually have it under better control than today. In the store I could barely speak. A few almost inaudible words. Gotta be polite. Couldn't make eye-contact at bjj. Well, couldn't hold it. Yes, I'm aware of these things. It's just painful. I don't know why. So I make a freaky impression and people think I'm even weirder. They don't have a clue. Neither do you.
I'm thinking of opening up the chamber of horrors. But I've built something here, at FP. I respect what I've done, even though it doesn't matter. At most it's a few daily moments of distraction or amusement. You're welcome. As I said in Pornography, I'd like to touch a few hearts, I'd like to create a few beautiful sentences, and I think I've done that. I don't want to destroy it. Even if it's only a small secret garden, I don't have to build altars to the serpent. So I take an hour or so out of my day and waste it here. I can afford that hour. It's been years since I've watched television. I spend that time here. Of course everything is built on dirt. But I don't suppose I need to go digging for bodies just to pile up the dirt. There are dark monsters in every shadow. We don't have to look for them.
The point of these efforts is to have a place to be unabashedly frank. Let my hair down, such as it is. Show my cards. Let it all hang out. But I can't let it all hang out. I know that. So I'll spend time talking about nothing. You know, like normal people. Can't be really honest. No one can be trusted to understand. Not blame. Just fact. You must have picked up on that theme. Everything else here is counterpuntal to it. I don't know that I'm right, but it is one of my rules. No one can be trusted. No one. Ever. Except my son, but you knew I'd say that. You can't trust family, and if you have them you can't trust friends. Who's left? God? You can't trust God to do anything but what he says he'll do. He'll let you go to Hell, if it suits his will. So I'm honest as far as I go. I can't be totally honest. You'd find a way to betray me.
No? Welcome to the chamber of horrors. Yes. Paranoid, irrational, dangerous, anguished and full of torment. Run for your life.
I just figured something out about bjj. If you won't roll with me, you don't matter. I'm not there to talk. You've got your pick of people you can roll with. Who do I have? Fuck.
But that's just the depression talking. I'll have to start going in the mornings. If I don't find something that works, it will be the end of me. Then what will you do with these few idle moments in your day?
J
2 comments:
Couple questions.
“He'll let you go to Hell, if it suits his will.”
Isn’t it more like, He’ll let you go to hell, if it suits our will? I thought God doesn’t want anyone (people) to go to hell (2 Peter 3:9). So it’s not that our going to hell suits His will, it basically suits our will. No?
C.S. Lewis said it well… “There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done, and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’”
p.s. I’m guessing God may be a more effective therapy long-term against your depression than JJ. And yes, I believe you can trust God (on His terms).
Damn, boy, what are you doing up at 3:18 in the a.m.?
I had no idea you could quote scripture. As I wrote that "if it suits his will", I had in mind 1Tim 2:3-4, "...God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth."
But my reference point was election. Some are made for the fire. That's his will. In my dark moments, which seems to be most of them, I emphasis that side of the dichotomy.
I suppose Hell is an agreement. God doesn't give the stuff of salvation, faith, and those who don't get it don't want it.
My larger point, unspoken, was that God doesn't mind our suffering. It's good for us. Refining fires. Burns away the dross. Cauterizes the wounds.
Well, that's just me making myself sound right when I'm obviously wrong. God is gracious. The Kingdom is at hand. Goodness and mercy will follow us. I just don't seem to have the knack for it, nowadays. As I implied, anger and depression are the same thing -- another dichotomy. I cannot let go of the rage. There is just no peace. Pardon my vagueness. But it's a choice. No justice, no peace. Tee hee.
There was a time when I went to church three times a week. Good Bible studies, each time. Could not get enough. Just down the street, at Calvary Chapel. It's been years now, since then. I'm buried in ashes. I used to run. Now I've turned and I fight. Nothing does any good, it seems. I'm supposed to surrender, I guess. I surrendered once, and was given grace. It came as a breathless surprise. I believe that I have been an agent of grace, as well. But I keep coming back to Job, enthroned in ashes. How did he find the patience to outlast them?
Ah well. I've seen it, I've soothed it, I've counseled it. It's only right that I should go through it again. How else could God reveal his comfort?
I've said it all before, too many times. I'm just repeating myself.
Good old Jack Lewis. I even read his medieval studies.
Thanks for the kind thoughts, N. You are dear to me.
J
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