On what it’s like for me to battle recurrent depression.

I’m in a good place now.  Taking care to take care of me.  Building on strengths, taking risks with making new friends.

I wrote this piece over a year ago.  I had more than a few episodes of dark, self-destructive (self-harming and suicidal) thinking.  I hope I never go through that again.  I am doing everything I can to prevent recurrence (see my holistic healing for PTSD up in the tab above).  I shared this piece of metaphorical prose to describe what it feels like for me to battle the dark moments of my life.


She, The Warrior

Out of the darkness, She* emerges – battle-worn, bloodied and breathless.  Her sword and her shield now heavy in her hands, She lets them drop them to the grass below.

She looks east toward the horizon and sees the morning sun. The sky is blooming in hues of crimson and orange and She feels gratitude for the golden orb’s healing warmth upon her skin.  She drinks it in and feels the tendrils of hope stirring within her.

She has emerged from the depths of despair and confusion.  Behind her lay the demons she fought, who themselves lay severely wounded.  But She knows while this skirmish is won, the war is far from over.

Momentarily disoriented as she accepts the truth that she alone must fight, She shakes off the terror of what just transpired and pushes the fear out of her mind.

She raises her face towards the sun, letting the light shine on the shadows of her heart.

She must trust the process, however brutal it becomes.

Almost driven into the abyss of madness, She narrowly escapes the Great Beast who wants her soul.

But the question remains… for how long?

She hears a demonic laughter echoing from the dark forest beyond the field and it gradually fades away.

Not this time, She mused, then shuddered all over.  Not today.

She picks up her sword and her shield, raises her body up tall, and limps resolutely home through the meadow, where a gentle wind blows the wildflowers about.


* She is Me…She may be You…She is every woman who struggles with her own Great Beast (depression, hopelessness, loneliness, or any kind of emotional drain in her life).

About Casey

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ ~ Jack Kerouac, On The Road Again
This entry was posted in Complex-PTSD, Creating, depression, Metaphorical writing, PTSD, Soul wounds, Stories for healing. Bookmark the permalink.

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