Friday, 10 May 2013

Deep Dark Woods


The Burren
Choices are odd things.

One chooses not to smoke or drink, one chooses to live as healthy as possible, one chooses to battle one's demons and mostly keep the black bear hidden out of consideration for other people. One exercises, sunbathes in moderation, gets fresh air.

One avoids choices detrimental to one's health, such as recreational drugs, extreme sports and doing things which would firghten the children. Then one day, with the best possible intention, a respected doctor prescribes a drug which should help alleviate one's rapidly worsening depression and decent into unreality.

The drug helps up to a point, but less as time goes by, and the side-effects and need for ever stronger doses, to say nothing of incipient psychosis due possibly to prolonged usage, increase. One researches, reads, researches more, visits psychiatrist after doctor after councillor, is referred for a holiday in the local mental hospital and pays higher and higher medical bills for the privilege of not getting one's health, mental or physical, restored.

Then one day a psychiatrist tells one, after the shame and misery of all the good choices gone bad, that one is choosing to be depressed and that one can equally choose to be un-depressed.

So, one makes another decision- right...wrong...better...worse?

One quits the drugs and starts down the long, rocky, weird road of withdrawal symptoms. The track record of people managing to shake this particular drug is very low indeed (possibly hundreds out of millions) but I have to try. And you know the thing that makes me sure I am making the right choice for the now is that despite the sick-making, head-frying, painful, jittery, fevered, frantic, frightening withdrawals, there are no depressive, bi-polar or psychotic symptoms.

But its hard work.

I should have taken to drink'n'drugs'n'booze years ago and maybe I'd have had some fun out of it first?

You know the lines of Robert Frost's poem?

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Its true, but at least I have begun 'the way through... my...woods'.

5 comments:

Ulla said...

Courage on your journey, don't be too scared.

Robin said...

Sending love, and hoping that soon you'll see the warm, bright light come shining through those trees.

xox

Ann Babillis said...

I have so much to say, none though, would be appropriate for a comment board. What your're doing is hard work. It's a good thing you are a hard worker. There is brightness and joy in the morning. You will see.

Benta AtSLIKstitches said...

Oh you brave girl. Wish I could be there for "real" support, but sending virtual hugs and kisses. At least there is occasional sunshine, not the snow that I think is in the poem

Amanda said...

I can't do anything to help, but you do know that you have plenty of cyber friends who are wishing you well. Keep your chin(?chins) up!

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