solitary

i know i've shared in at least few entries that every day for the past year plus starts in a pretty similar fashion. i wake up, i (eventually) get out of bed, and as i prepare for the day i battle through a gauntlet of depressed thoughts and feelings. primarily, they come in the some variation on the theme of feeling alone, unloved, unmotivated, and without hope that life will get any better.

today, as i went through this daily routine and as i particularly focused on why i could not seem to find an escape from this recurring experience, i had the thought of, "this is what it must feel like to be in prison -- to be trapped in a place that you don't want to be, knowing that your only way out is the (in many cases slim) chance of parole. in the meantime, you have to endure the same imprisoned state of being day after day after day after day.

recognizing that my prison is that of my depressed mind and that my experience has made it difficult for others to relate to me, i carried my analogy forward to the recognition that, "no, this is worse than just being in prison. it's like being in prison in solitary confinement, shut off from even those who might provide you at least some support, encouragement, or even a sense of connectedness to some aspect of the rest of humanity."

i was about to write that i imagine it must be difficult to live under such conditions. then, i remembered that i don't have to imagine it. it's my daily existence.

i think this particular perspective explains the reason why when so many people tell me to "take a break, go away to a fun, relaxing place, do something different" none of those solutions resonate with me. you see, there is no going away; i carry this prison of the mind wherever i go, and for me, these well-intended suggestions, are akin to that same solitarily confined inmate making chalk drawings on his prison wall. the confinement of depression stands secure, and most of these experiences fall flat and carry no weight to break through it.

lately, i've been sharing songs about attempting to remember better times. in many ways, it feels as if i am clawing against what feel like the increasingly impenetrable walls of this darkened cell. in doing so, all i have to show for it are fingers that are raw and bleeding or in this case a weary mind and a broken spirit.

try to remember - josh groban