bearthinking

About recovering from depression and suicide.

The Ninth Circle

OK, this is more or less stream of consciousness.  I have put the Seven Day project on hold indefinitely.  I have too much to work through before it can come to fruition.

Suicide is still something I live with everyday.  Memories are triggered by the smallest things and I cannot seem to break or re-channel the cycles.  It is worse, because I cannot stop thinking about either of two women; my ex and “Babycat”.

I am torn between the past and the future; my present has been one of limbo and looks to remain that way for awhile.  Ideas form, plans start, then a crush of painful, blighted memory and Sisyphian hope traps me, sapping my will, my strength, my spirit.  Only when I draw, or write, or create my digital works, or paint do I have anything resembling relief.

I think I have given up trying for happiness.  And forget about love.  I can no longer contemplate inflicting my life, my self like that upon another person.  I yearn for it, burn for it, need it so badly.  The unconditional sharing and commitment entwining two souls into one.  But, having felt it once, or at least thinking I had, having fooled myself that I shared that way with another, I no longer trust it, no longer trust myself.

And to my ex, NO!  This is MY fault, not yours.  If you think I am blaming you, well that’s your problem, not mine; so keep it to yourself, please.  I am the one who did not question my relationship to you sufficiently.  If I had then I would divorced you before we had been married two year.  Of course, then our son would not have been born.  *sigh*  It truly is an ill wind that blows no good.

What it comes down to is that while I am precluded from completing suicide, I have no real reason to live.  Desire to?  Yes, inasmuch as I have a fair survival instinct.

As much as I want to, as much as my instincts tell me to trust in Babycat, I can’t permit myself to reach out that way.  I started to, I started to come out of The Pit.
I began to reach out, knowing that the least that would happen would be the gaining of a new friend.  Which did happen; I am profoundly grateful.

There is always a ‘But’, right?  One comment and I cracked.  I had no defense, no sense of self worth sufficient unto the day.  I failed, spiraling down again.  Down into The Pit, into the Ninth Circle.  Frozen in my betrayal of Self, glimpsing past Lucifer to reflections of Heaven’s Gates.

How do I forgive myself?  I cannot get past my subversion of self-preservation, my instincts screaming at me to flee a bad choice in marriage partner, my failure to recognize the worst threat to my Self: myself.

One of my people, the Bear people, was sitting on a rock in the hills after a particularly satisfying round of mating followed by berry-eating.  The sun was warm, the breeze just cool enough, and he slept.

He dreamt of his otherself; the cabin, the family, the days of toil and the nights of rest, the times of joy, anger, contentment, and sorrow.  As he dreamt, a branch snapped loudly by his ear.  He awoke, startled and afraid.  He reacted to protect himself and clawed out at the shape that loomed in his eyes.  He roared his pain and fear, smelt the blood, and felt his Self leak away into nothingness.

His life ended then.  He still ate, slept, shat, toiled and rested, but it was meaningless.  There was no more contentment, anger, sorrow, or joy. His home was empty, his days and nights an endless endurance of pointless activities.

I don’t wish to die, but I have no true hold on this life anymore.  It has leaked away into nothingness.  I fear knowing it will always be so and fear hoping it won’t.

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May 26, 2010 - Posted by | autobio, depression, recovery, suicide | , , ,

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