Archive for July 14, 2018

Noonday Demons

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 14, 2018 by Her Broken Wing

The disease of addictions steals, it robs and it destroys. It sucks any and all resemblance of life as we know it.

Andrew Solomon’s book Noonday Demons describes the absence of depression is vitality. I have strived most of my life for some sort of normalcy but due to the fact I have never had that (normal), I did not know what to look for or feel. I would not know if life was ordinary or not as my striving for life I had wished for would ever seem on some occasion—attainable.

But today, the Sun arose once again as it faithfully does every day. Its warmth and penetrating rays, however, could not reach me. My world goes cold.

Even my bones are cold. I shiver to stay warm still on the hottest day of the year.

The arid pain blurs my desire to move, to breathe—the involuntary muscles of my body are now an agonizing effort. My world goes cold.

As in Harry Potter’s Dementors – “it sucks out all the happy-all the good memories are gone…” such a life and her circumstances.
Days become weeks, weeks become months and eventually the months become years. My years pass by. I am saddened by the darkened area I live and its daily dance of the Sun’s silhouette as she comes in my room. The Sun teases me by the shadows on the wall. The Suns outline waltzes all around my room as the Sun creeps through the sky as if spying on me. It is some ritualistic ceremony. This is only a reminder of what I am missing in my world. The Sun’s ghosts I know are demons and they tease me.

Is this depression in the likeness of death? Or is this lower than death?

An escape from the reminders of child abuse, rape, murder all wrapped up into a cocoon that has failed to metamorphic into a new life. God talks about new life. (2 Corinthians 5:17) But I cannot shed the old me. The old life overwhelms me.

A leap of faith! For me it is much like diving into a pool that is void of water. Dried up faith?

No, not really.

I hold onto hope. Hope of not even tomorrow but just for today.
Hope that the specters on the wall become reminders of freedom from my walled off prison of my mind. A new birth? Maybe so. Maybe hope is the new birth spoken of, I do not know.

But my hope today is that I dance with the shadows on the wall.

(Written by me August 2014)

In Him

me