Friedrich Nietzsche, over 130 years ago, wrote this:
The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets successfully through many a bad night. Well. That just blew my mind.
His ponderings have been taken as deep and meaningful by those in the know. Personally, I think he might have been onto something.
This particular quote is resonating with me at the moment, because nights are a peculiar battle all on their own. After day-times of (mostly) successfully fighting the Depression with distraction, busy-ness, and deliberate mindfulness; the nights are a different story. The hustle and bustle of the family around me settles into the quiet hush of sleepers. Depression likes silence. It makes the things I think seem really loud.
Using the cover of darkness, Depression sneaks around my brain like a cat-burglar and unlocks as many memories as it can warp. It splashes through the settled sediment of long rested memory, and the swirling thoughts in the darkness tangle and reflect as badly as possible. These are the nights when sleep truly is a blessing, because sometimes; the only way to appease the beast is to let it beat me. To give in. To say I'll end it; tomorrow. By letting it win I get time to rest. I get time to rebuild my defenses. I make it through another night.
Tomorrow I'll probably feel different. Tomorrow I will start the battle fresh. Tomorrow could be a day I make a breakthrough and make some progress. As Scarlett says, "tomorrow, is another day".
Derri.
The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets successfully through many a bad night. Well. That just blew my mind.
His ponderings have been taken as deep and meaningful by those in the know. Personally, I think he might have been onto something.
This particular quote is resonating with me at the moment, because nights are a peculiar battle all on their own. After day-times of (mostly) successfully fighting the Depression with distraction, busy-ness, and deliberate mindfulness; the nights are a different story. The hustle and bustle of the family around me settles into the quiet hush of sleepers. Depression likes silence. It makes the things I think seem really loud.
Using the cover of darkness, Depression sneaks around my brain like a cat-burglar and unlocks as many memories as it can warp. It splashes through the settled sediment of long rested memory, and the swirling thoughts in the darkness tangle and reflect as badly as possible. These are the nights when sleep truly is a blessing, because sometimes; the only way to appease the beast is to let it beat me. To give in. To say I'll end it; tomorrow. By letting it win I get time to rest. I get time to rebuild my defenses. I make it through another night.
Tomorrow I'll probably feel different. Tomorrow I will start the battle fresh. Tomorrow could be a day I make a breakthrough and make some progress. As Scarlett says, "tomorrow, is another day".
Derri.
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