**We all have our demons; our struggles.
The Demon screams and rattles the bars that confine him. The blackness and despair he’s cast over me in the past are gone for now. I check and double-check the locks. All is secure.
I’ve been in the grip of his vile, black storm. He’s held my soul clutched tightly, while I clawed and fought my way back to the light. I shudder, thinking about ever having to spend time in that hellish prison again.
Despair makes for an interesting muse. I write a wide variety of things. Poetry, short stories, fiction and non fiction. I find that my sad or darker stuff is usually better than something that is more light-hearted. I also find that I seek out the keyboard more readily if I am in a darker place than if I’m happy, as a way to express myself.
I have a theory about why this is the case.
I’m happy. I don’t really know why, but I feel really good. My life is going well and I’m just… happy!
Maybe it seems strange to you that I would talk about happiness this way, but I am so grateful for the happy days that I have to express it.
I’ve talked before about depression and the effects it’s had on my life at different times. I never know when it will strike again. And the bitch about depression is the fact that you don’t know that it’s happening to you until it’s got you by the throat.
You wake up one day, look around you and wonder how your world has become so dark, bleak and unforgiving. You know you have many blessings and many good things/people in your life. But the depression robs you of the ability to find joy in these things.
The joy you once found in music, or writing, or singing, playing the bongos, or anything else that gave pleasure is gone.
Depression creeps in and wedges into the little cracks and crannies of your life until it’s a full blown Dragon sitting on your chest.
The other thing that depression can do is make you immobile. I don’t mean that you suddenly can’t walk. What I mean is that the day to day things that used to be so easy are now mountainous to you.
The simple act of washing those few dishes in the sink, or taking that load of laundry out of the dryer, are acts that are just too hard to deal with at the moment.
Just existing is difficult.
You stop interacting with other people and you isolate yourself. Dealing with others is again, just too difficult. When you are in a full on assault from depression, you put on a brave face, so people don’t see.
Then you isolate yourself even more.
It becomes a terrible cycle. The more you isolate yourself, the worse your depression becomes. The worse your depression becomes, the more you isolate yourself.
People who have never experienced this don’t understand it.
Then one day, you’re looking out the window and suddenly the colors are more vibrant, like someone lifted the film from the window so that you have a clear view. You WANT to go for a walk, or wash the car, or visit family. Out of the blue you realize that you’re singing along with the radio. One day you’re sitting at the keyboard and realize that you’re WRITING again!
And just like that, you’ve made it through. The depression has passed. Maybe you had a change in medication, maybe you’ve had a change in your life, or maybe you just rode the wave. Whatever it is, it’s gone.
Will it be back? Will the dragons come creeping in the night to hide under my bed, waiting for their chance? I don’t know.
I DO know that today, I am happy and for that I’m grateful!
You are the magician, pulling my heart from that black hat.
You hold that fragile organ on the tip of your tongue.
To be cut out with a phrase.
To leave it exposed is risking the darkness.
I always knew there was something Dark in you. Then the day came when you revealed your true self.
You didn’t see me hidden in the dark as I followed you.
Your rituals, rehearsed and practiced millions of times. Would I die for seeing them?
You raise your hands and the people fell silent. Did I see worship in their eyes?
The danger of my curiosity now realized, I shrank back from the glow of the fire.
You raise your face to the heavens, the fire glow turning your skin crimson.
With a booming voice that I did not recognize, you said “Bring the sacrifice forward!”
Suddenly there were hands on me, roughly pulling me up and dragging me, stumbling, toward the fire.
My dragons burrow deep and sleep the sleep of the evil. They lie in wait. They make sure I have my defenses down; that I am once again comfortable in my own skin.
My peripheral vision sees the shadow of these beasts occasionally as they melt into the background. I try as I might to catch them before they are loose, but they are too clever.
These dragons will creep into my room and sit at the foot of my bed, watching as I slumber. I have fooled them only once; feigning sleep as their fowl breath assaults my senses. The stench of their evil is almost overwhelming.
I have awakened on many moonless nights, sure I would see them. My heart is in my throat as I sweep the room. I must be sure to catch them if they linger. All that lingers is the cold sweat that penetrates my gown and their stench.
My hands shake as I toss my gown to the floor. Sliding back into bed, I stare at the ceiling. Sleep will elude me this night, for the dragons have already started their assault.
With the dawn, I greet the day with trepidation. How will the dragons manifest this time? Will I find myself once again in the dark? Alone with my dragons, with nothing more than hope to see me way back into the light.
As I lock the front door and walk down the street, I can feel the dragons’ breath on my neck….
Amazing image found on Google Images. Credit to the wonderful artist that created it.
(C) 2014 Penny Wilson
Penny Wilson Writes 