Inside Out

When I was first diagnosed with depression, I'd already been fighting it for years without knowing what it was. I just knew that I'd get these really, *really* dark moods that I just couldn't seem to shake no matter what I tried. I mean, I was used to getting into funks like that--but they'd never last more than a few days, maybe a week at max. And they weren't ALL that frequent. Then in 2011 I had one of those moods that just grabbed hold and wouldn't let go, and after about 2.5 months I was ready to do ANYTHING to escape the constant feelings of exhaustion and all the other nonsense that comes along with depression.

I'm wordy, so every story is long--but skipping a lot of the details, I eventually decided that it was time to seek some professional help as I wasn't sure that I could continue the battle on my own. I started seeing a psychologist, specifically because I did *not* want to start using brain meds.

During this time, I started learning some techniques for coping. I was also using writing as an outlet for any feelings that I wasn't sure how to handle, or couldn't quite deal with...getting them out onto the page seemed to help a lot. I started diving heavily into poetry on Twitter, because 1) I found it challenging to take a feeling or idea and put it into words with an enforced character limit and 2) If I was somewhere that I didn't have a lot of time, but I really felt the need to get something out, I could drop something on Twitter and it helped, somehow.

As I became more cognizant of my cycles of depression, I began to see patterns. I'd start doing better, and sometimes it would feel like depression would totally blindside me--but other times, I'd see myself giving in to things. Like, I'd been practicing mental exercises to stave off negative thoughts, and had been doing quite well at it, but then I'd recognize some and instead of forcing myself to fix them, I'd just...leave them. A little self-flagellation here and there should be OK, right?

Except every time I'd fall into the darkness, once I was there I'd just wish I could get out. It's not quite an out-of-body experience, but it's more like my brain would get rewired and things that a normal, logical me wouldn't even consider would suddenly start feeling logical. I'd wallow in the negative thoughts, my energy level would drop precipitously--you know, all that business that (once again) goes along with depression.

It's not so much that I couldn't see the right decisions--it's that I'd stop caring about making the good decisions. The literal version of "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink" in the sense that I could know 100% that an exercise routine and getting more sleep would help me break the funk I was in....but I didn't care enough to do those things.

When I think of that mindset, what jumps to mind is that it feels like the very definition of "wallowing."

So...the personification? It's My Dark Mistress. I started writing her into some poems because it felt like an unhealthy relationship that I can't seem to escape from--because part of me doesn't want to. The revelation earlier this year that I might be addicted to a certain level of sadness kinda rocked my world, but it makes sense.

See, My Dark Mistress is seductive. She knows what I like, and she offers it to me--just a little bit at a time. Sometimes she's so subtle that I don't even realize that she's there, that I'm listening to her whispers, that I'm allowing myself to indulge a little at first, then maybe a little too much.

Anyway, to that end, I'll throw a few of the poems in here too because *why not* at this point. If you've read this far, you're in for the long haul anyway, so there all represented various times and feelings over the past few years.

1
Call my soul
oh Crow
Take me away
from the clutches
of my dark mistress
Silence her whispers
And remove her choking hands
from my throat

2
There she is again
My Dark Mistress
Her golden goblet
adorned with onyx
and filled
with unwanted memories
She offers it
A willing seduction

3
Sleep grants no reprieve
Exhaustion
My sole companion
heralds the arrival
of My Dark Mistress
who offers the seduction
of feeling
once again

And finally....

4
Sometimes
I like to crawl to the edge
Peer over the precipice
into the shadows below
And feel the cold tendrils
of darkness
caressing my face
As My Dark Mistress
calls my name again
Always there
Always waiting
but held at bay
by things outside of her control
But sometimes
it's comforting
to know that she still wants me
That she still needs me
Solace in death
the sleep
forever at the gateway