Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I picture it as a hooded figure.

Black and shadowy.

Lurking in the background.

Waiting for a moment of vulnerability. For a moment of weakness.

It does not come all at once.

It seeps in through a small leak in a concrete foundation.

Its grip is cold, and grows like a vine.

Once it grabs hold, it begins wrapping itself slowly around my stomach, my heart, my brain.

Squeezing until I gasp for breath.

Intruding thoughts begin to form.

Did I lock the door?

Did I turn off the oven?

Did someone break into the house?

What if there’s a car accident?

Do those sirens mean someone I love is hurt?

Why can’t I do anything right?

My heart beats faster. I feel sick to my stomach.

I try to shake the thoughts. I use all the tricks in my arsenal.

Thought-stopping, reality checking, cognitive triangles, singing loudly and badly, working out, checking in with Casey, my Mom, Stacey, someone who will answer the phone and make me laugh.

The hooded figure retreats, as a sliver of sunshine comes through the window.

I want to curl up in its warmth, like my dogs do on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

For awhile, the light will win.

Sometimes for months at a time. Sometimes for only a few minutes.

I can always feel the darkness, the shadowy figure of doubt.

Uncertainty, anxiety, fear.

It is waiting for its opportunity.

These words are my life preserver.

I unravel them, throw them out, and hope that they will be something to hold on to.

To keep my head above water.

To thwart the hooded figure.

To bring light to the darkness.

The irony doesn’t escape me, with the light and the dark.

That we wouldn’t be able to distinguish the light, if not for the dark.

The fact that one cannot exist without the other.

The overwhelming awareness that the light casts shadows.

Distorted images of darkness.

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