Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Not This Time

    My body and inner workings never cease to amaze me. I know that one reason I take such diligent care of the vessel that is Body is because that does help fend of some of the worst effects of Melancholy. I can feel Melancholy lurking about these last several days, nearly a week, actually. It is a clammy hand on my right shoulder, a soughing in my ear, a presence, lurking, waiting for my vigilance to waver so it can slip quickly inside. But I know it is there, and know it waits, ever ready, so my defenses must remain strong. Oh yes, they do slip a little, when fatigue or stress lift the corner of my defensive cloak and allow Melancholy an opportunity to caress bare skin with cold hand. Then, tears will threaten. Actually tears will spill, for a few uncontrollable moments, but then can be quickly brought under control before much notice can be made of them. I do find that I am most susceptible when I am tired, it is similar to having muscle fatigue, but it is emotional fatigue, and when an accident is most likely to occur.
    With Melancholy breathing down my neck, I am inspired to workout all the harder. It is as though I can outrun, outpace Melancholy, leave it in my dust. This is not so far fetched a notion. Endorphins released by hard physical activity are proven to be more effective than most prescription anti-depressants. I know this to be true. I have started workouts while crying uncontrollably, another reason I do not workout at a gym, and through arduous physical endeavor been able to regain a modicum of control over raging emotions. I am pleased to report that this particular scenario hasn't played out in my living room for over a month now. Lately, I have found myself pushing myself further and harder, yet remaining within the scope of pleasure rather than punishment. I know that some of my winter workouts border on self-flagellation, a form of physical punishment to take Brain away from dwelling on emotional distress. It is kind of like hitting yourself on the thumb with a hammer in order to ignore a persistent headache. Kind of the same, yet different. Especially since I have never actually hit myself with a hammer in order to ignore a headache.
    These days, the need to combat Melancholy has not been as necessary, but I know if I relax my guard I will find myself invaded. Melancholy presents itself as weak, ill supplied, poorly armed, and under manned. But I know that is a ruse to lure me out into the open, drop my defenses, slow my training, dull my preparedness. Melancholy is a trickster with all the guile of Loki. I know this and have fallen victim in the past. Not this time. Not this year. So when I feel the burning of tears pressing at the back of my eyelids, my lower lip threaten to tremble, my voice grow weak and hoarse, I will remind myself that Body is prepared for any onslaught. I will remain vigilant, strong, fierce, brave. I will keep Body at the ready, and this means a never slackening regiment. I am battle ready, especially when I know the enemy lurks so near. Melancholy will not be allowed to take hold. Not this time. I am ready.    

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