hey donald-
things have continued to be extremely overpowering and punishing, psychologically-speaking. things have been this way for about six months. my communication with people remains extremely low. I can barely recognize myself. the only parts I do recognize seem to be the parts that appear corrupt and polluted beyond redemption.
I don't know what it is I'm expecting or hoping. there's something about some of my former versions of "happiness" that I don't trust or want anymore. in the meantime my life has been whittled down to two basic activities: reading and sleeping. how fucked-up is that that I list sleeping as an activity? it is the only thing that seems natural. dark, still, silent, alone, and inert. sometimes a different life in the dream world. sounds a little like death, doesn't it? I've been thinking about death a lot, particularly self-imposed death. 5 years ago I made a pact that I wouldn't do it while my parents were alive and I really want to honor it. my mom has done so much for me, would basically do anything for me. she deserves better than that. I can't bear the thought of doing such a thing to her. she remains the firewall between me and suicide.
I know that suicide remains one of the great taboos of humanity, but when depression/self-loathing reaches a certain degree or lasts for a certain period of time, it's almost inevitably going to come up, at least in thought. I don't feel like it benefits me to keep these sorts of thoughts completely bottled up inside, so I share them with a select few from time to time, always reminding them that these are just thoughts, theories, images, feelings. there is no plan or concrete intention at present. a desire, yes, but it is a desire that I do not feel at liberty to enact. this firewall thing with my mom really does seem to be one of those "ties that bind." as much as I've been hunting for a way around, over, under, or thru it, I can't. I just can't. it feels like a core obligation. I've read some stuff about family members left behind by suicide and it's usually an incredibly toxic and complex and long-term set of responses. accidental death or death by a physical disease is usually easier to contextualize, it seems. some people say that depression is also a physical disease and that the x number of people who die by suicide every year should be classified along with all the other medical statistics. there's probably some truth to that, but maybe not the whole truth. my depressions tend to be episodic, and between episodes there is often a deep appreciation for a select few of life's opportunities. when an episode is only 2 weeks or a month, the memories of that appreciation remain fairly vivid. I suspect I'll be back there fairly quickly and I usually am. 6 months, though, I begin losing track. I start to interrogate my past and my character at increasingly vicious levels. the humiliating evidence of failure, vanity, error, illusion, laziness, selfishness just piles up more and more, crowding any other alternative interpretations out completely. very typical symptoms, really. some call it a loss of objectivity. as in, everything is seen thru a warped lens. well, I know from experience that oftentimes when I'm feeling great I'm seeing thru an even more warped lens. some say that no matter what, we're seeing thru a warped lens. that that's part of the human condition. that wisdom is learning to accept it and to find a particular warp that works for you somehow. works for you and other people as well.
one of the things I've been hyper aware of is the long-standing degree of self-concern, self-involvement, self-absorption, etc. this very email is perfect evidence of this. I've even wondered if I don't have some form of narcissistic personality disorder. I seem to be trapped in these patterns. even when I can see and acknowledge them, I remain trapped. sometimes they seem to work for me, sometimes they seem to collapse in ruins around me.
at the risk of repeating myself a little, after this message I'm going to cut and paste 5 emails I wrote this summer to different people trying to explain myself. if you read them, you will have an exhaustive overview of the recent past and when we finally speak (and we will) I won't feel the need to rehash any of this. we can start fresh. in the meantime, if there's anything you would like to get off your chest in writing, remember that reading is one of my only two activities these days.
your calls have been appreciated.
one of these days maybe I can be a halfway decent friend again.
love to you-
matt
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yes, I am in my hometown.
two months ago my mom discovered a lump in her breast. cancer. a fairly aggressive type, but thankfully caught at a very early stage. lump was removed and all the feedback was as positive as one could have hoped for. chemo was suggested more as an "insurance" measure than an active strike on cancer cells, which hopefully have already been removed from her body. for now. first round of chemo was today, and my mom asked if I would come home for about a week, as difficult side effects often don't show up until 3-5 days after the treatment. it's probably moral support more than anything else. but after having just lost her husband of 45 years, she probably deserves several extra doses of moral support.
not that I've been the best company the last month or so. I have been functioning more along the lines of a ghost. there probably is some belated psychological fallout from my dad's death and now this thing with my mom, but these episodes have also been known to come seemingly out of nowhere, attached to no particular circumstances that I can trace.
when I say ghost I mean a being radically and aggressively emptied of almost all ones's usual range of human responses, energies, affections, enthusiasms, desires, capabilities, etc. even under the best of circumstances I would say that my range is relatively circumscribed, but nothing like this past month. zombie-like. hollow. depersonalized. alien. so steadily, deeply ghost-like that the only way I can manage is to yield and live/behave like a ghost. this sort of normalizes or contextualizes the phenomenon in such a way that it doesn't necessarily always fee
I don't know how realistic or reasonable these explanations are. I'm probably missing or distorting or excusing a lot here.
my exchanges with people continue to be almost completely non-existent. this is the first e-mail I've written in well over a month. one or two frank conversations with kathy and wendy, but that is essentially it. a few polite and brief exchanges with seth in the hallway or kitchen. a significant number of calls and emails unreturned. of the few calls that were returned, I was mercifully directed to an answering or voice mail apparatus, where I could explain in a few brief sentences that I was temporarily out of commission and could only communicate on a emergency or must-need basis. these were all people who have heard this sort of thing from me before and for the most part seem to accept it.
during an episode like this it is often with the people I am closest to that I feel the most pained, sick, and estranged. as in, if even thesepeople can't stir a trace of normal human response, other than underscored deadness, than something really must be profoundly wrong. even if I was in madison and we were to hang out for a while, I'm pretty sure I would be there essentially only in body- hollow-stared, hollow-voiced, either quietly throbbing from a sort of grief for myself or just not really there at all- my body, my past, my internals, and my relationships are all as if very faint entities only very faintly familiar from an already expired and obsolete incarnation- one that was gradually and irrevocably ruined, and hence now serving primarily as a source of regret and remorse. that might sound like a really cold or impersonal thing to say, but I've learned from experience that when one of these episodes gets entrenched, virtually nothing or no one makes any felt difference. it's like my psychological apparatus is totally raw, and any contact at all (outside the extremely dis-embodied and abstract medium of books and sometimes documentary films) just burns, stings, exaggerates, aggravates. like I need to be quarantined. when even books start to fail then I know I am really in trouble, and this past week books have been failing. my mind is either in basic vacuum mode or numbly-sifting-remnants/ruins mode, most of which appear to be precursors of, evidence of, and probable future seeds of...abject failure. abject ugliness. abject selfishness. a network of irredeemable, humiliating, and corrupting qualities that just won't go away. qualities that seem to be at my core. some of the time, when I'm doing "better," I'm able to laugh at these qualities and laugh at myself and others who share their own version of them. but it's an uneasy laughter, maybe more than I realize at the time...it feels at times like this that there is a piper showing up to be paid...not particularly pleased with my performance...I definitely
sorry to be so gloomy and unavailable. you are a dear person and a dear friend, even if I can't access those actual sentiments presently. that probably also sounds like a cold or impersonal thing to say, but I'm trying to be honest here, for better or worse. I know I haven't been responding quickly to your reach-outs but I have been getting them and sort of saving them up for a future time of exchange beyond this episode of veritable life-support/feeding tube conditions.
love to you.
matt
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hey ka-
thanks for the sweet text the other night.
it seems I have maybe 15 or 20 minutes out of every 24 hours when I feel capable of accessing something resembling a familiar self or familiar mental activities.
the rest is filled with either blankness or nonsense or exaggerated unpleasantness. the blankness and the nonsense isn't necessarily that bad to deal with. the exaggerated unpleasantness is. the feeling of being a simple ghost, which is sort of neutral, gives way to the feeling of being a deeply flawed and irredeemable failure- a total embarrassment to myself and anyone who has been associated with me.
that shades over into a sort of mental paralysis/depersonalization which probably appears to others as...well, sort of a ghost.
I'm also feeling sort of ashamed to be so helpless and completely overpowered by this thing. seemingly unable or unwilling to locate any part of my life outside of this bubble. mom's here, yes, and I concede that my life is aligned with hers...as it is with yours...but like I've described before...feeling this depersonalized around people I know and love the best is a particularly difficult thing- I feel like this horrible, horrible version of myself that I'm ashamed to reveal, that I don't want to inflict on other people, especially the people with whom I have important ties.
I feel drawn to some sort of purely isolated physical environment these days, but I don't know what or where that would be.
I'm just sort of hovering here, frozen, sort of afraid to make any sort of definitive move.
mom has had a couple of totally back to normal days and is encouraging me to go and be or stay and be wherever I want to. she seems to think I might be better off back in madison.
I guess in some ways it might be a little easier for me to be in a "ghost place" around you, even though your proximity (or mine to you) is not exactly simple simon for either of us.
this latest thing sort of swallowed me up so fast and so thoroughly that I have lost track of time a little bit. I've also sort of lost the "observer" or "witness" capacity. Not always able to clearly acknowledge that something unusual is happening. just this sense of something warped and wrong and unfamiliar...amidst all these warm and right and familiar surroundings. yeah, that dichotomy really is causing a severe emotional shut-down. I need to be in a more neutral place for awhile. I think madison would probably be better. probably sometime in the next 2 or 3 days.
I would like to also say "I miss you" but there has been no sustained or recognizable "I" to speak of lately- just this sort of film that warps everything on either side of it- the objective reality of you, of me, of mom, of dad, of friends, of nature, of the past- it just doesn't seem available- just the faintest outlines- if I try looking closer for details the outline just fills with unfamiliar or unpleasant stuff. warped stuff that I neither believe nor disbelieve, causing me to shut down more and more and more in response. things are too messy/ugly/painful to properly deal with and yet impossible to get away from.
I will say "I love you" because there's something sturdier about that phrase/idea/feeling- something that still holds in place somehow in spite of all this personal trouble.
bye for now
matt
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hey richard-
I again apologize for being so hard to get a hold of lately. three things combined in the last couple of months to sort of yank me even further out of the loop than I usually am.
1) after the drama of my dad's death (and all the suddenly increased contact with friends and family that such events usually entail) I felt the need to sort of pull back and just be alone for awhile. not in a depressive way (although I am very experienced with that)- just a calmer way, just a quieter way of moving back into my more solitary/isolated lifestyle. (just as you mentioned awhile back regarding the differing connotations between the words "nothingness" and "emptiness", so too the striking relationship between "solitude" and "isolation." I have generally identified much more with the former, but recently I've been starting to think that I may have been kidding myself. we'll leave this distinction alongside the first one for a future conversation.)
2) in mid april my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. stage one (hopeful), grade three (less hopeful). all the rest of the preliminary tests came back as encouraging as one can hope for in situations like this. A lumpectomy and the follow-up testing resulted in further encouraging reports: the hope that the cancer had been entirely removed and would not be returning for a long, long time, if ever. My mom has been as sweet, optimistic, and composed as she was all through my dad's ordeal. she did concede it was a rather abrupt piece of news, coming so quickly on the heels of my dad's situation. This is precisely the sort of thing that one almost instinctively wants/needs to lean on one's long-term spouse for, I imagine- well, too bad for my mom. just as she was barely into her next phase of life, living alone, this comes up, and drives the point home even further: sorry karen- no more spouse. Luckily she has an extremely tight web of close friends and family. I have been home on and off the last couple of months and might be back a few more times this summer. Just to be safe, the doctor recommended a mild chemo sequence. her first of four treatments happened about 10 days ago, and wasn't too disruptive.
3) starting in november of last year, I fooled around a little with a combination of psychotropic medication I'd been on for a couple of years (gradually reducing and stopping), which I've learned from past experience almost always results in a wild fluctuation of moods, and tapers off into a horrible and sometimes long-term depression, even after medicine has been re-introduced. one might ask: why fool around like that if there's a proven history of fluctuation/crash? one might answer: good question. looking back, I think it had something to do with sensing that my dad's end was near, and wanting to have access to as full an emotional range as was possible, even if that meant unpleasant emotions. upon his obvious decline, there was this sort of numbness, which I know can be a sign of stress or pre-grieving; but it really bothered me. I wanted to knowthis thing was happening. I wanted to be there and feel this thing happening. my dad died at the end of december, and surprisingly, maybe, I handled the event with a lot of serenity. this event also opened onto a flurry of creative/artistic activity that was very satisfying and empowering.
this serenity and creativity started to noticeably taper off in early april. then my mom's diagnosis came about, which not surprisingly further complicated my emotional landscape. by the time I returned home to decatur in late april to be with her for the lumpectomy and follow-up, I was well into the sort of massive depression/depersonalization episode that usually only happens every couple of years, if that, usually as a result of a medication experiment. minor episodes are no big deal- they come and go all the time. but these massive ones are truly disruptive, and sometimes get deeply entrenched, and everything about my person-hood and place in the world comes under direct assault- which sometimes feels authentically life-threatening.
in these worst stages, the only strategy or state of being that makes anything resembling sense is to observe, with minimal exceptions, the closest thing to complete isolation that I can feasibly manage. my 9 years in chicago was essentially designed and scrupulously maintained for this purpose. moving here to madison and electing to live with my sister and others was a direct challenge to that particularly deep-seated pattern. for the most part I've been grateful that this change was possible and duly effected- except for when this happens, and part of me craves the sort of isolation that only solo-living can provide. however, I do still have my own room, and very smart and understanding and com/dispassionate roommates who seem able and willing to let me go thru whatever process I need to without necessarily making a big deal out of anything. that comprises, in my mind, the absolutely perfect response. the isolating tendency probably goes against a hundred different psycho-therapeutic advisories, but something very deep and almost instinctual gravitates to it again and again, and when I finally emerge back among people and start observing a few of the social-animal tendencies and start feeling at home or at peace again with my person-hood and place in the world- well, for various reasons that are hard to articulate, it seems to me that the isolation was a necessary measure while it lasted, and will probably be required again in the future. it feels parallel to or symbolic of some sort of death process- feels as if nothing less than a simulated death process is capable of absorbing the degree of depression/regret/self-
this is the third longish email I've written this week, each to a dear person I had managed to have no or minimal contact with for a couple of months. very little communication with anyone, period, except for a few short telegraph-like messages indicating that psych issues had become extremely problematic and disruptive again. these people were already familiar with this history of mine, and as I expected, were extremely supportive and understanding.
the fact that I'm able and willing to make these sorts of explanations/confessions is sometimes a sign that the episode is lightening somewhat, giving me a little breathing room to sort of stand outside the morass of engulfing dysfunction and see it and describe it semi-objectively.
I've gleaned from some of your comments and emails that you've had a few of your own run-ins with the psychological let's-put-this-guy-on-the-rack gang; specifically an allusion to a hospital visit around the time of your father's death. this allows me a degree of openness with you that I don't always have with people I've met fairly recently and/or are just starting to get to know well.
of course my parents' health crises are emotionally difficult- they are for most people. but as I've maybe indicated, there seem to be other, more internal, perhaps physio/chemical factors going on with me as well. similarly devastating episodes have occurred in the past when there were no discernible traumas or losses going on in my life. (I know some radical theorists feel that life itself, especially in the modern world, is so inherently traumatic and loss-oriented that psychological dysfunction is simply a normal and even appropriate response. is that an extreme position? so extreme that it borders on the absurd? or have we simply been so completely conditioned by this era that we don't even think to entertain such broad indictments? honestly, I don't know if there was any human era that wasn't traumatic and loss-based. maybe earlier humans had a radically different conception of what we refer to as "trauma" and "loss." maybe they were more accepting of the ever-shifting and precarious flow of existence.
anyways, here we are in 2012- people still needing food and shelter, people still having families, protecting themselves against dangers, playing around, bickering, exploring, inventing, discovering, getting sick, dying, and wondering what the whole affair might possibly mean-
I admit to being an almost 100% product of this era, and to a greater or lesser extent, a product of my nuclear family. certain advantages, certain disadvantages derived from both spheres. trying to sort some of this stuff out. trying to decide what lies in my own initiative, and to what extent I can even trust my own initiative. 38 years old and still many childish mis-conceptions never properly addressed and adjusted. certain types of magical thinking and an absolute disdain for structure and almost all types of "work." this last item all by itself is probably enough to bring a human life to utter ruin. so one asks- where does this disdain come from? and depending on who you're talking to, the discussion starts to get interesting, or gets shut down almost immediately with a curt "grow the fuck up." for better or worse, I've been surrounded by and surrounded myself with people primarily oriented to the "interesting discussion" response. but that "interesting discussion" can only go on for so long, right? eventually the discussers reach some sort of conclusion, provisional or otherwise. and that conclusion itself may be "interesting" or it may be "banal" or "expected" or "reasonable" or "unfortunate" or "hopeful" or "too early to tell" or "statistical" or "too damn complicated to sort out" or "too pathetic for words." or thousands of others, of course. and the discussion may be re-opened from time to time. maybe, for some people, the discussion and the debates it entails becomes life itself. certain types of artists and psychologists come to mind here. certain people have said to me, essentially, "you just can't let it go, can you? can't let life off the hook, can you? can't let yourself off the hook, can you? can't honestly imagine a radically different lifestyle or worldview for yourself, can you?" and I answer, essentially, "no", "no", "no" and "no." a great big no.
but within this great big cave of "no" I've stumbled across some subtle pleasures, and derived some subtle meanings, and discovered a few subtle observations left behind by former cave dwellers, and arranged to receive some not-so-subtle government benefits. official outsider. officially dis/unable. unofficially uninterested, uninvolved, and unwilling. sometimes timid, ashamed, secretive, and just wanting the whole thing to be over. sometimes convinced that the project is clearly more trouble than it's worth.
but the cave of no is very accommodating. it can absorb a great many moods, modes, contradictions, and lifestyle choices. the open sky of yes can be exhilarating for a brief stretch of time, but so far there has always been this sudden and unforeseen expiration date phenomena, which remains impervious to my adjustments and protests and attempted paradigm shifts. the only creditable option seems to return to the cave, which by now is essentially home, and therefore, in a very twisted way, familiar and perhaps even comforting.
ok- I feel like I'm starting to repeat myself. this is perhaps more information than you were soliciting, but as you know, it's been awhile, and I wanted to get some stuff out in the open.
I haven't asked you a single question, have I?
although I'm still pretty much in hyper-isolate mode, reading is the primary thing that sustains me. If you want to write at length, I have all the time in the world. If you want to write in brief, same answer. if you're willing to wait this thing out with me and talk later on the phone or in person, I'd be delighted and grateful.
hope you are ok, maybe even better than ok.
thanks for all the sharing you've done these past months.
matt
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(jay- hi. I just read over this email and feel as though I almost need to post a disclaimer. I talk pretty freely about some of the worst thoughts that I'm capable of. the fact that I have something of a history of opening up these doors to you from time to time probably allows me to carry on sometimes without the proper sense of restraint. you wouldn't believe how little I've been communicating with people recently. this is only the fourth email I've sent since late april. almost zero telephone calls. two trips home to give moral support to my mom with her lumpectomy and chemo. most of the results that have come in since the initial diagnosis have been as encouraging as one could possibly hope for. she's handling the whole thing with her typical composure and cheerfulness. still, being at home is particularly hard when I'm in my own little crucible- there's this sense of being such a failure, such an ugly, deformed thing, and right there in full view of my mother, this person who so lovingly nurtured me, who had such high hopes for me once, who still loves and supports me so unquestioningly, which creates yet another level of cognitive dissonance. to still be trapped in a bubble even when my mom's health is on the line, when I'm faced with the prospect of curtailed time with her- that's a bad combination. I was a sort of ghostly presence, but she assured me that she was comforted and glad I was there. I tried to tell her that I felt like a really bad version of myself, at a time when, for her sake, I wanted to be the best version of myself. she said she loved me anyway, that she loved all versions equally. I don't totally believe this, but it was still a nice thing to say. so I guess we were there for each other- each of us sort of compromised but doing our best. since I've been back this last time, I've really let myself go. the backed up inner sewage that I was sort of keeping at bay in decatur is cascading thru my system in unprecedented ways. way back in late april when I first started to feel something slipping I went back on medicine and have since had the dose increased. in some sense I feel as though I probably set myself up for this spiral by tampering with the medicine at all. sometimes I think there might be something like a thrill-seeking, danger-seeking component when it comes to some of my decisions regarding medicine. I was humbled enough back in 2001 to obediently stay on the shit without interruption for almost 7 years. since then, I've played around a handful of times, with varying results- but these past months have been a sort of wake-up call, that under the right/wrong circumstances this depression shit could be fatal. so I talked about this in the following, at the risk of potentially causing you to worry. this is the fourth email recently where I've sort of laid things bare to a person. revealing the worst stuff is clarifying and cathartic in some way. this is the shit that is actually going thru my head. luckily I'm someone who is usually satisfied to write for no other audience than myself, so I can trudge thru alot of shit without anyone having to know about it. but every now and then something slips out, gets sent off to somebody, oftentimes a very familiar variation on what's become a sort of ongoing theme. I'm slightly aware of the danger of stereotyping myself- like, the "broken record" guy- like "ok, here we go again" and one skims over the tiresome laments out of a sense of loyalty, sympathy. I don't feel as though I'm necessarily complaining in emails like this nor do I feel as if I'm necessarily presenting anything particularly novel or interesting. to me it seems like a sort of straight forward account of how things have been going on my end- some people talk about their preferred candidate, their love affairs, spiritual practice, careers, children, pets, acquisitions, remodeling projects- other people talk about their suicidal depressions. no topic seems inherently more interesting than any other. especially when we've come to expect certain things from certain people. that probably neutralizes it somewhat.
anyways, as bad as things have been, there have been a few occasions where I've sort of been able to "come up for air." the image is of a person struggling in a body of water, being pulled under, feeling threatened, and then, somehow, finding himself above water for a second, enough time to get another huge lungful before the struggle continues- these reprieves are really important, because they remind me that there is another reality out there. I think the same thing goes for these emails- if I'm able to sit down and at least attempt to describe things objectively, that must mean I still have some degree of psychological control. even if it's only once in a awhile. the sense of "oh fucking well" has been particularly strong this time around. this also translates into "what's the fucking use of trying to keep up with people? I have zero interest in their lives and they probably have zero interest in mine, especially if I just have this sort of tired shit to report. why not just stay in our own little clusters."
and amazingly(?), that's what's been happening! I've been totally free to drift out onto an open sea of oblivion. you wouldn't believe the sort of continuous hours of sleep I've been able to manage. 45, 50. stirring just long enough to use the bathroom or have a peanut-butter and jelly, in the dead of night, not seeing anyone- and almost perpetually dreaming. simple scenarios, for the most part. pretty innocent stuff. earlier stuff. easy stuff. not a bad place to be. so I've just been staying there. 24, 30, 40 hours at a stretch. is this shit even allowed? is this shit even legal? well, if nobody knows about it, it pretty much is! kathy and seth have sort of been requested to look the other way for awhile. and except for brief check-ins with ka, they have both been pretty compliant. "live and let live" is the household philosophy. and the word "live" is being utilized here in its broadest possible sense.)
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writing to you once again from the ghettos of dysfunction city.
I think I've described the terrain and decay enough times now to for you to sort of immediately know what I mean.
the "lull" I referred to back in april quickly turned into a trough, then a vortex, then the crucible, then the sense of being radically beyond a proper read of the situation. I say that because my own reading seemed perfectly and devastatingly clear, and to act on it would lead to irreversible outcomes: irredeemable; compromised and corrupt to the bone; so humiliated by my life arc that the only way I could accurately demonstrate to myself and other people that I can see the thing clearly would be to bring it to its only fitting conclusion. hanging on like I do just adds more humiliating evidence to an already overwhelmingly and obviously devalued, diminished situation. 38 years old with virtually nothing to show for it, except for a line-up of bad habits, pretenses, vices, failures, cover-ups, cop-outs, a shocking lack of morals/values, countless squandered opportunities, an extremely advantageous start in life completely frittered away. well, things go wrong in this world. things spoil, get poisoned, get hijacked, get dangerous. unaccountable, unforeseen, unfair things happen all the time. disasters happen. gradual decay happens. sometimes the best thing is to just clear damaged goods out of the way. plenty of other fresh goods coming down the conveyor belt.
but as you probably know, I've got this pact with my sister not to cash in the chips while our mom is still living. this pact has really been tested these past couple of months, even to the point of a few brutally honest conversations with ka just to sound out a few ways around it that might ultimately be better for her. like, if I did it in the next couple of years ka and my mom would have each other to lean on, ka would have time to adjust to my absence so that by the time my mom died she would be ready to face the latter stage of her life without any nuclear family. I asked her if she realized how much uglier it could get with me in the future- this "hanging around sheerly on principle" thing can make for state of disdain, decay, and resentment that you probably couldn't imagine. asking myself all the philosophical, sociological questions regarding why is suicide still such a taboo? people die in so many ways- why is this one way still considered so sad, so weak, so selfish, so tragic? isn't a person entitled to make an ongoing assessment of things, and if this option keeps coming up, eventually decide that it's legit?
I'm basically making all these arguments on behalf of my mother, because she's the one so completely immersed in the taboo of the thing. I'm basically taking her sense of taboo onto myself, and imagining what she would go thru if the thing actually happened. beyond that, my dad just died and she herself has come down with cancer- as much as it might seem appropriate in the pure terms of my own individual life, the family context makes it essentially impossible for the immediate future.
you'll probably remind me just like everyone else that these episodes pass, pretty soon I'll be back to my little lah-dee-dah daily life of absolute self indulgence, pretending that I'm something more than a slug and a parasite- a harmless jester, perhaps, a clown, a fool, a cautionary tale at best. soon I'll be back to my familiar zone so immersed in denial and irony that there's no possible way for me to make any sort of accurate assessment of anything-
that's the problem with these sort of really acute and prolonged nasty episodes- there's this sense that I'm accessing a level of truth that is normally buried deep beneath miles and miles of denial, distraction, creative misinterpretation, psychological gymnastics, black humor, and sarcasm. all that shit gets peeled away and other stuff becomes more apparent. and it goes so far back- that's a major part of the problem. seeing the seeds and early flowerings of these qualities, tendencies, as far back as grade school. unmistakable signs that even then something very subtly fucked-up was well underway. that also suggests the deep characterological flaw. the biological flaw. the line-up of factors that are never going to change; hard-wired into my system and reinforced for 38 years- inescapable. one almost begins to understand the christian phenomenon of the need for total "rebirth" or "salvation." the fact that it was so subtle for a number of years just gave it the chance to get a really strong root system going on underground. and then, around early to mid-twenties, the growth starts filling in aboveground- and oh shit, it's not so subtle anymore- this shit is out in the open! but I've still got my little ways (at least in my own mind- who knows? maybe the shit is painfully obvious to everyone else and they're just being polite) to keep it as discreet as possible, and so I buy a little more time, fix up a little more camouflage, think maybe I'm flying under the radar again until BOOM! the vortex happens, and all my little rationalizations are completely blown out of the water.
the fact that this cycle has happened so many times now, I'm noticing this time around a slightly different reaction on my part- something along the lines of "oh fucking well." like on one hand there's what one might call the objective reality- the actual tape of my daily life and the transcript of the immediate thoughts/feelings second to second; the hypersomnia, reaching unprecedented levels; the isolation/avoidance, reaching unprecedented levels; the indifference to basic hygiene, reaching unprecedented levels; the contempt for the body, reaching unprecedented levels; the involuntary, almost schizophrenic stream of filthy images and words streaming thru my mind; the refusal to go outside; the sense of estrangement from my past; the sense of loathing for so many former periods of my "development"- all unprecedented levels.
so beyond this sort of raw data, there's what might be called the interpretive overlay- the sort of critical distance one might be able to take as if towards another person's experience- as in, this is what's happening, ok, but what does it mean? what are you gonna do about it? the second tier of thoughts. the thoughts about the reality, the thoughts about the thoughts, the meta-thoughts.
and largely, the meta-thoughts have been along the lines of "oh fucking well." which is probably or admittedly a double-edged strategy. because a)it keeps the most poisonous or self-destructive impulses at a certain distance, but b)it allows the situation to sort of dig in deeper and deeper because it's not being met with any notable resistance or judgement. I feel like I can maybe understand how hard core homeless people get the way that they are- at a certain point, they just stop caring. they stop judging or critiquing themselves on anything remotely approaching society's standards. their isolation, indifference, avoidance, helplessness, nihilism,
and my fear is that this pattern is just going to get worse and worse over the years, until I'm 45, 55, 60, my mom is perhaps still hanging on, and in the meantime I've become an absolute wreck and a totally embarrassing excuse for a human being. I think, maybe it would be better for my mom not to have to see me this way. maybe I should jump ship before it gets any worse. that way she'll at least have a halfway respectable memory of me. before the "oh fucking well" cuts so deep that I become such an embarrassment that even unconditional maternal love can't get around it.
this is the rawest, unfiltered sort of reasoning that goes on in the mind of chronic and major depression. I said at the beginning something about not having an accurate read on the situation. I concede that almost everything in this email could be slightly, moderately, or majorly warped- or, what is more probable- there is an aspect of truth to all these things, but it's all being presented here in the absence of other truths and their various aspects.
I'm reminded of a sort of cheesy parable that occurred to me once just as I was emerging from one of these difficult periods. everything I've been describing here was represented by the image of a unspeakably rank, shit-spattered, totally irredeemable garden that I can't locate the boundaries of- poisonous soil, completely ruined, tainted with all sorts of industrial waste, the worst sort of poisonous worms and beetles and centipedes crawling around, eating away at everything but the most mutant plants, all sorts of scrap metal, scrap plastic, human and animal bones, leaky chemical/sewage pipes running just a few feet below- seriously, who could possibly manage to tend a garden like that? and yet, that's all I've got to work with, because I can't locate the limits and I've heard that even if I could the whole place is fenced in with 45 feet of razor/electric wire- does this give you an idea of how somebody might just want to cash in the chips? you can't make any headway in a garden like this. it's chernobyl. the only thing to do is to get the hell out, because if you don't it will kill you. or drive you to kill yourself.
so anyway, the second part of the parable is when some massive and anonymous area landowner comes by and cuts a hole thru the razor/electric wire, comes in and informs you that you have all of this surrounding land to tend to or move about in as well, if you wish. you climb out and walk for awhile and eventually ascend a 900 foot lookout tower and see that as massive as the poisonous garden is, it's pretty much dwarfed by the neutral, unpoisoned land all around it.
so in this parable, the poison garden never goes away or gets razed. it just gets put into a much larger context. it becomes just one environment among many that are available to a person. it doesn't matter nearly as much. it can even be disregarded completely. after all, it's contained. there's a lot of other land to enjoy.
so anyways, I'm trying to end on a positive note. trying to acknowledge that there is wider reality out there than I've been experiencing lately. :) (isn't that how people attempt to symbolize something positive these days?) ;) (doesn't that mean a fun little wink?)
-matt (aka the funnest fellow in the great city of madison)
(write back only if and when you want to- you've responded generously and honestly regarding this kind of stuff enough times in the past. simply knowing you read this is meaningful enough in itself. you could also by-pass all commentary and just give me objective report from your end: the family, the writing, the theories, the beasts, the technology. maybe there are some totally new things in your life that I have no idea about as of yet. email remains my preferred mode of communication these days.)
..............................
jay-
thanks for the timely response. solid, unflappable, feet-on-the-ground style jay. I truly appreciate it and pretty much agree with everything that you said.
I've had some nice lungfulls this last 24 hours.
last night I asked myself an experimental but serious question: what if every thought in your head is almost 100% nonsense? I know that the "almost" in there could quickly lead to irresolvable problems, but let it go for right now- what if every thought in your head is almost 100% nonsense? and I'm not necessarily implying that nonsense is an inferior or undesirable option. at certain times, maybe most times, for certain people, certain eras, certain episodes, certain cultures, certain attempts, certain combinations- maybe nonsense is just the normal condition. not even just the default condition- no, therock bottom condition. the unavoidable condition maybe, for most of the time, for most people, in most situations. maybe that's why people love comedians so much- these are people who are capable of locating the nonsense in almost anything that exists. or in anything that doesn't exist. horrible nonsense, funny nonsense, intellectual nonsense, religious nonsense, political nonsense, artistic nonsense, interpersonal nonsense, technological nonsense- there's a lot to go round. it goes without saying, of course, that this all probably nonsense. my theory about nonsense blends in very nicely with the general nonsense.
the "almost" allows for the possibility that on rare occasions our thoughts might accurately have an almost correct read on some data. a provisionally correct read- because new data will almost certainly be arriving within seconds, and if our reading isn't adjusted as quickly we will find ourselves hopelessly behind the curve, treading water once again in the stagnant, algae-covered ditches of nonsense. these "wisdom type" people are always described as being very alert, very present, very quick on their toes- very attuned to the present, right? very willing to discard any and maybe even allformer readings in the face of new data.
it seems that such a precarious, minute to minute responsiveness, so easy to lose, (but equally easy to regain perhaps?) is a situation that could be described as inherently nonsensical. especially if one takes into consideration the fact that a lot of people don't necessarily value or cultivate minute to minute responsiveness. I'm surprised more "wisdom types" don't just throw up their arms in defeat and exhaustion, lamenting, "what's the fucking use of valuing 'sense' in a veritable ocean of nonsense?" but then I remember that a lot of these "wisdom types" have a reputation for humor- like theyget the discrepancy- like they don't even mind the discrepancy- like maybe they are still entirely in touch with the confused, nonsensical parts of themselves, and can use that part instrumentally as a way of better comprehending and communicating with the whole population. I remember pema chodron saying things along the lines of "your wisdom in essentially contained within your confusion"- which is also of course a very taoist related position- strength contained within weakness, light contained within darkness, talent contained within obscurity, easiness contained within difficulty, closeness contained within remoteness- the taoist suggests never making an enemy of these 2nd terms of the pair, because to deny them or push them away is tantamount to pushing the 1st term away also.
in any case, it might be nonsense. taoism is very sensitive to the pitfalls of taking language too seriously.
so anyways, last night- I had this image- some anonymous person coming up to me out of nowhere and saying- "hey- just so you know- everything in your head right now is nonsense. and if tomorrow things seems clear or lighter, don't worry, because that will be equally nonsense. what's in your head right now- I'm not suggesting it's good or bad, right or wrong, heavy or light, whatever- doesn't matter. those terms apply only to the degree that you can acknowledge and learn to live with your nonsense, and even then, they will only be relevant for a matter of seconds. basically you just need to chill out- you're taking your nonsense way way way way way too seriously. suicide is pure nonsense. living is pure nonsense also. I'm not going to ascribe any particular value to either one at this moment. you seem to be convinced that it's your duty to live while your mom is alive- well, that's nonsense, but it's a sweet sort of nonsense. probably a very misdirected and tangled up rationale to keep going, but again, a sweet sort of misdirection and tangle. why not just go with it? most of the time you don't mind this hanging-on business so much. in fact, sometimes you even like it- admit it-sometimes you like it this way!"
I was also thinking about that phrase "this isn't the life I signed up for!" well, there I was, on my back, in the dark, alone, going in circles, having talked to no one for awhile, glad to have talked to no one for awhile, thinking about my own ocean of free time vs. the momentum of mainstream society, the near-endless busy-ness that most people seem to choose or allow themselves to get trapped in- and I thought- "to be entirely honest, this is precisely the life I signed up for. every step of the way, I was subtly building toward this. alone, obscure, without duties, living almost exclusively in a world of pure symbol- well, maybe it is a life that will ultimately end prematurely, but I can't say I didn't choose it- and I can't say I'm not thankful for it."
pure nonsense, of course, but if felt good to just allow for a moment that my life added up. maybe it was/is grotesque, but at least it wasn't an accident.
I asked: can I help it if I wanted/want it this way? so something's a little off with my desires, at least insofar as they have veered so far from the mainstream- are they inherently off? or are you just saying that because of the comparisons? I can hear somebody objecting: well, matt-for example- suicide is inherently off. me: how do you know? them: I just know. me: not convincing enough. them: think about the pain you'd cause. me: ok, now we've got an actual argument. them: a solid one, too, even by your own admission. me: you're right. in spite of these past horrible months and some of my own thinking thru all the options, I've never denied that it was a rock solid argument. if I was completely or nearly completely alone in the world, it would be a whole different ballgame. them: indeed it would. it would be for most other people, as well. me: you mean they'd also have to rethink everything? come up with entirely new reasons for simply staying alive? them: believe it or not, I think they would. me: so life is really that moment-to-moment? them: entirely moment-to-moment.
that question: can I help it if I wanted/want it this way? could I have helped it? should/could someone have intervened earlier, sketched out for me where this life path might be heading? could/would I have listened? understood? made the proper adjustments?
that strikes me as a core quality of suicidal depression: that what you deeply want/need is inherently wrong. there is no way out of wanting the wrong things. doesn't matter if they're obtainable or not. it feels/is wrong to want them, feels/is wrong to not want them. no way out. useless to try to concentrate on other, lesser wants/needs because they pale in comparison. try focusing on the wants/needs of other people then? oh christ, give me a break. if I was capable of that these problems would have been solved ages ago.
that what you deeply want is inherently wrong, at least by the standards of this society, and it's hard not to take those into account. I think sometimes that I'm doing a pretty good job of being free from certain major cultural biases, but then, like these past months, I come crashing back down to earth- basically start screaming at myself, with a weapon in hand: "how could you fucking think you were some kind of exception to anything?!? remind me again of what makes you so fucking special?!? you dead-weight!!! 38 fucking years old and still living like a fucking petulant teenager sulking alone in his room with his oh-so-sensitive, oh-so-fragile little concerns and misgivings! and yet, I have to give you credit for being a pretty crafty little fuck- it's not everyone who can figure out how to live a life of such unadulterated self-indulgence!"
that's what I mean about something inherently wrong with what I want- because, yes, I do want a life of complete self-indulgence. is that a terrible thing to admit? is that even an unusual thing to admit?- maybe a lot of people would say: "well, actually, now that you mention it, maybe I wouldn't mind a life of complete self indulgence as well! interesting idea, sir! I suppose we're being hypothetical here, right? I mean, how could I realistically pull that off? now I guess if I had a modest fortune I could maybe start picturing something- but that's very improbable. some might say that's evenunnatural. to "have a fortune" in this day and age, aware as we all are of the crushing injustice and poverty- is that really so self-indulgent to live as if none of that impacted on you? as if those ugly realities don't have some sort of claim on you? well, maybe I'd make a couple of hefty donations to certain nonprofits, to salve my conscience so I could get back to the full time self-indulgence. . .
again, is it inherently wrong to want to live as if that ugly shit didn't exist? them: no, it's not inherently wrong- it's just fantasy based- childish. adults eventually learn that they have to deal with that shit in some way. me: make some sort of compromise? them: sure, that's one way of putting it. me: to what extent am I responsible for the state of the world? them: that's too convoluted to sort out. me: is it really? them: look, I don't know what it is "really"- maybe you're 100% responsible- maybe you're totally irrelevant- maybe the "state of the world" is too big an arena to realistically talk about. let's talk about your little world- the one that you think you're in the middle of- to what extent are you or do you think you're responsible for that one? me: pretty responsible, I guess? them: that poor little world couldn't get on without you? me: I guess not? them: you don't sound too convincing.
ok,ok,ok, this thing is spiraling out of control- let's just pronounce it all sheer nonsense and call it a day.
-the funnest fellow in madison
-the cleanest, nicest, and hardest-working fellow in madison
-the greatest cook in madison
-the most incorrigible ladies man in madison
-the most spiritually advanced fellow in madison
-the most energetic and dependable fellow in madison
