Wednesday, January 29, 2014
It is that time of year again, when my demons start to stir from the dank caverns I have banished them to. I am struggling. The doubting whispers, mostly quiet for so long have returned. I've had a few tough blows lately that sent me reeling, and from which I haven't even begun to regain my footing. On the outside, all seems well, I am fit, strong, radiant even. Inside I feel as if there is a gaping hole, filled with cold ash, that is unresponsive, cold, silent. This is a first for me, this feeling of nothingness. So unlike me. So unlike the mercurial, tempestuous whirlwind that is my "normal." It feels awkward, alien, disturbing. It has been several weeks since I realized the nothingness was there, and I have been doing my best to analyze, dissect, and understand, but how can you dissect nothing? Oddly, I feel fine in most other regards. Oh sure, I am a tad weepy, oversensitive to sad songs, inclined to rehash recent events over and over in an attempt to make sense out of the senseless. But overall, Brain and Body are in fine fettle. Spirit seems to be hiding in the shadows of this latest, weirdest manifestation of melancholy, and I can't for the life of me figure out how to lure it from hiding. Skirting along the depths of this recent murk, I am tempted to attempt to regain control through pharmaceutical means, but I am reluctant. I know there are little pink pills waiting in an innocuous brown bottle that could take the harsh edges off of this melancholy, but I do not want to return to that path. I prefer to stay the course, doing all in my power to rectify and right the situation through what amounts to hard work, clean living, and pure thoughts. Yeah, sounds corny when I put it that way, doesn't it? But it is truth. I want, no, I need to repair this gaping blackhole that has taken up residence where my heart is supposed to be. It is not like me to feel nothing. Of course, there are a few people in the world that will always warm the coldest of cold, brighten the darkest of days. The Bean, my Bright Bean, the glowing child that I would sacrifice my soul for, he is the one that will always fill my heart with warmth, joy, love. He is a balm to my jangled nerves, the healing touch that makes the rest of the world fall away into irrelevance. But I can't be dependent on the warmth of another to banish the cold that has taken up residence inside my temple. I must find a way to rekindle the fire. I must find just a trace of glowing ember hiding beneath the cold, dark ash, and blow on it gently until it brightens and sparks back to life. Only I can cradle the glowing spark, nurse it back to a flame, and feed it dry tinder until it is once again a crackling blaze. But I have to find that dying ember, before it too goes dark and cold. Until then, I will keep Brain and Body trained, nourished, treasured. I will keep my temple strong until I can return flame to the candles on its altar.