"scratching at the surface now"
Watched "Once" tonight. Felt it, loved it, understood it, believed in it. Wanted to be in it, please, please? Remake it, invite me, please. I won't make a peep, I promise.
And then I cracked open "The Noonday Demon" and:
"Grief is depression in proportion to circumstance; depression is grief outside of proportion to circumstance. It is tumbleweed distress that thrives on thin air, growing despite its detachment from the nourishing earth. It can be described only in metaphor and allegory. Saint Anthony in the desert, asked how he could differentiate between angels who came to him humble and devils who came in rich disguise, said you could tell by how you felt after they had departed. When an angel left you, you felt strengthened by his presence; when a devil left, you felt horror. Grief is a humble angel who leaves you with strong, clear thoughts and a sense of your own depth. Depression is a demon who leaves you appalled.
....
Like physical pain that becomes chronic, it is miserable not so much because it is intolerable in the moment as because it is intolerable to have known it in the moments gone and to look forward only to knowing it in the moments to come. The present tense of mild depression envisages no alleviation because it feels like knowledge."
Is it strange that in some bizarre way, reading those sad words brought me a kind of joy? Hearing it said that maybe... just maybe... my circumstances are no longer to blame. Perhaps they brought it upon me, perhaps it was just lying in wait for the "right" circumstances in order to expand and multiply. And now I have my family and I have a hope for the future... and yet it lingers, creeping up on me at odd times. Anxiety attacks every.single.night. this week. Stupid. So much love and support around me. And yet it lingers on, eating away at the edges of my days, bumping into my quiet times of relaxation, nudging my mind in odd directions.
I write all this tonight with a half smile on my face. Is that strange? My heart is pounding hard and fast, putting me on edge. And yet I don't feel alone. Brad is snoring next to me, my Danny Boy is sleeping in his crib. Tomorrow... today... is Saturday and the weather is perfect. It is midnight and time to go to sleep.
I feel the need to apologize about always revisiting old things, always writing about myself. But I won't, because this is my space. I acknowledge it, that is all I need to do.
I'm scratching at the surface now
And I'm trying hard to work it out
So much has gone misunderstood
This mystery only leads to doubt
And I didn't understand
When You reached out to take my hand
And if You have something to say
You'd better say it now
Cause I'm picking up a message Lord
And I'm closer than I've ever been before
So if You have something to say
Say it to me now
Say it to me now
Say it to me now
And then I cracked open "The Noonday Demon" and:
"Grief is depression in proportion to circumstance; depression is grief outside of proportion to circumstance. It is tumbleweed distress that thrives on thin air, growing despite its detachment from the nourishing earth. It can be described only in metaphor and allegory. Saint Anthony in the desert, asked how he could differentiate between angels who came to him humble and devils who came in rich disguise, said you could tell by how you felt after they had departed. When an angel left you, you felt strengthened by his presence; when a devil left, you felt horror. Grief is a humble angel who leaves you with strong, clear thoughts and a sense of your own depth. Depression is a demon who leaves you appalled.
....
Like physical pain that becomes chronic, it is miserable not so much because it is intolerable in the moment as because it is intolerable to have known it in the moments gone and to look forward only to knowing it in the moments to come. The present tense of mild depression envisages no alleviation because it feels like knowledge."
Is it strange that in some bizarre way, reading those sad words brought me a kind of joy? Hearing it said that maybe... just maybe... my circumstances are no longer to blame. Perhaps they brought it upon me, perhaps it was just lying in wait for the "right" circumstances in order to expand and multiply. And now I have my family and I have a hope for the future... and yet it lingers, creeping up on me at odd times. Anxiety attacks every.single.night. this week. Stupid. So much love and support around me. And yet it lingers on, eating away at the edges of my days, bumping into my quiet times of relaxation, nudging my mind in odd directions.
I write all this tonight with a half smile on my face. Is that strange? My heart is pounding hard and fast, putting me on edge. And yet I don't feel alone. Brad is snoring next to me, my Danny Boy is sleeping in his crib. Tomorrow... today... is Saturday and the weather is perfect. It is midnight and time to go to sleep.
I feel the need to apologize about always revisiting old things, always writing about myself. But I won't, because this is my space. I acknowledge it, that is all I need to do.
I'm scratching at the surface now
And I'm trying hard to work it out
So much has gone misunderstood
This mystery only leads to doubt
And I didn't understand
When You reached out to take my hand
And if You have something to say
You'd better say it now
Cause I'm picking up a message Lord
And I'm closer than I've ever been before
So if You have something to say
Say it to me now
Say it to me now
Say it to me now