My Bed of Nails

Flatteringly enough, I was invited to write this article that would serve two purposes: it would appear in my August Buddhism column and would also be entered in the Depression event. It felt good to be noticed; it is hard to believe one is reaching actual people sitting alone in a basement room in one's pajamas pressing "Send" or more pathetically, "Submit" day in and day out.

John McManamy, Suite101 Depression Contributing Editor--not depressing--editor-- tendered the invitation several months ago. I put it off till the last possible minute, but plan to be done on time. So here I am looking forward to a Depression event, which is typical of the depressed. Look at the advantages: the event is shared with other depressed people, so at last here comes an event where I'll feel comfortable. I don't even have to be there. In fact, it's not an event at all. It's a collection of articles wafted into Cyberspace. I could be sleeping on the couch while the whole thing goes on, and probably will be, assuming that nobody will read my articles anyway, and if they do, they will find them ridiculous. If that sounds like a loser attitude, imagine how I was when I was depressed. It was so bad that, as the unmatchable genius Levant said: "During the deep depression period, I would get nostalgic for the good old apathy days."

Initially I was going to tell you all about my life. Like the immortal Oscar Levant, my life went from "chaos in search of frenzy" to "...a morbid rondo. A rondo is a musical form in which the theme constantly recurs." But it took over 1,000 words and I was wallowing. Suffice it to say I qualify as a depressive. There were ten years when it seemed there was a huge, jagged icy hole in my chest. I wore several layers of clothing year round, even under the Nevada sun. I gained 50 pounds, my hair lost all its body, I cut my face out of any pictures taken at the time. The high point of my day was my nap on the couch. Despite what Levant describes as "seizures of momentary sanity", like him I sought unconsciousness as my greatest passion.