Over the years I have talked about my depression a bit. The ways that I struggle. The methods I use to overcome it. The way that D/s has been helpful to me. Etc.
I haven’t spoken much about the absolute darkness… mostly because I don’t really want to. I have varying layers of damage. Most them are manageable, especially those stemming from traumatic experiences that I have revealed over time. There are a few that are not. My best solution is to stay away from them. Guard them. Ensure that things don’t stir.
I keep a lot of the deepest damage locked away. These are the looming specters that plague me during my darkest times. I call the place that I bury them, the Demon Box. Some demons manage to leak their way out of the box and plague my thoughts during my seasonal depression. The box itself, remains relatively secure… most of the time.
A handful of things give me overwhelming levels of anxiety and pain. In most cases these are the themes that have at some point, made me deeply despise my own existence. They are the things that have made me deeply hate myself. When I face them head-on and recognize the reality of it, I want to die.
My experiences with therapists have range mostly from poor to mediocre. If they can’t understand me on a basic level, I do not assume they will understand what falls within my darkness. The pragmatic reality is that if I spoke about these feelings with a mental health professional, I would probably end up being committed against my will and either medicated into oblivion or forced to lie about it if I wanted to get out.
Most people simply cannot understand what it is like to be functionally broken. They don’t understand the precarious way in which you can balance your life to successfully compartmentalize the damage that would otherwise be completely crippling. I’ve been doing this for so long that it is second nature to me. My entire existence is built around preventing the Demon Box from seeing the light of day. I know that once opened, it will destroy me. I am not afraid to die, but it is also not an outcome that I wish to welcome. I avoid being put in a position where choosing nothingness is the better outcome. It is self-preservation.
Choosing to live and keep the demons buried is not a calm and rational exercise. It is more like drowning, arms flailing, grasping for any place to hold on, trying your best not to drag someone else down with you. When people are too close, there is collateral damage.
While guarding the box, I have hurt those who are dear to me. I have destroyed things of deep meaning. I have harmed myself. I create a storm of self-preservation and I want to be left alone until it passes. If people insist upon opening the box, I will lash out. In doing so, I begin to accumulate red in the ledger. In some cases it has been so great that it has spelled the end.
My pursuit to live will outweigh the call of D/s, even if my actions will make me hate myself and want to die later on.
If I had a way to fix this, I would have already fixed it long ago. The best I can do is avoid it, especially the things that will make it worse. I am aware this makes me “lesser” in all ways. I know that I will end up feeling like shit by choosing that I would rather be alive tomorrow and sad than reach the point of no return and explode. This is my burden to bear.
What is most difficult for me is when I try to explain this and find that the push back sends me deeper and deeper into the corner… and ready to explode.