Uncle

This morning I whispered back to the Whisperer. Standing in front of the mirror, I told it that I give. I give. I give.

Uncle.

It has been telling me so long what the solution is, there just seems no arguing with it any more.

I have brought down the chopper on K. I had swallowed everything that I could get down and it was enough.

It is enough.

Like a Prowling Lion, Seeking Whom to Devour

I have long ago decided that most of the stuff that Professional Head People write about depression is rubbish. It is also boring. "Dysthymia"! Hmp! Who would ever use that word in real life?

So I have decided to use my own terms. You may have noticed a few of them thus far.

Evil Brain: I have, like many depressed people, particularly people whose preferred mania involves food-related problems, have two "voices" (no, I don't "hear voices") in my head. One of them is me, a nice, normal person who just thinks ordinary stuff like "what should we have for dinner" and "I really need to buy cat litter before going home". The other is what I have always called my Evil Brain. The Evil Brain is a monster, and as a Catholic, I have sometimes wondered if it is not actually some demonic voice trying to destroy me. It often sounds like it. When I am badly depressed (not so much today), my Evil Brain will whisper, and sometimes shout, all those terrible things that make me depressed. It will sometimes not need to use words, but will just project images and memories or ideas that are upsetting. Ten years ago, when I could not eat and was losing weight drastically, I described the whispers my Evil Brain said to a friend of mine, and she exclaimed, "Your Evil Brain sounds like the Devil!" I've been told that if the things my Evil Brain whispers to me were to be written down, they would be exposed as a bunch of obvious nonsense. This has been suggested to me by several people, both Professional Head People, and normal people.

The Evil Brain is particularly exercised about food. It often forcefully forbids me to eat and threatens me with awful consequences if I do. And when I ignore it, it often becomes a kind of screaming torment, a punishment for breaking the rules. But this is only when things have really moved along. We're not there yet.

The Litany: Some time when it is running in my head, I shall remember to write down in a note book the actual words of The Litany, but the general gist is the same. "You're bad. You should die. No good thing could possibly happen. You do not deserve this nice thing. You have allowed all the things that you should have done to slip past you in life and now it is too late..." etc. You get the idea.

Whom resist ye, stedfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.

Lies

At some point, a conscious decision has to be made, whether to live or whether to die. Until that decision is made, and acted upon, depression will continue to offer ways of self-destruction that are, essentially, deceptive. It will lie to you, whisper through the long sleepless nights that there are ways to kill yourself that do not involve actually killing yourself.

It will offer secret ways of disappearance that look, from the vantage of the twilight, like the door to another world.

You can fade away. You can dissipate yourself, like mist in the morning breeze, and no one will see or stop you.