somewhere between heaven and hell

so, so you think you can tell
heaven from hell…

roger/gilmour waters

i’ve seen my heaven and i’ve seen my hell. heaven occupied much of my early life, before my long and deep depression. sure, the golden streets didn’t exist and i didn’t really need them. things seldom seemed to go as planed, but as the story goes, that’s life. i could find at least some satisfaction in what i did and what i had become. sure, i had my depressive struggles, but I for the most part could manage.

in contrast, the living hell of last depression paid me a visit. it was, long, four years and it was deep. many times, success could be measured by the simplest of things such as getting out bed. as it often does, isolation moved in with its best bud, depression.

friendships and relationship ship wrecks laid strewn on my emotional reefs. as hope seen lost and hope went to zero, the pain of all types shot skyward. at one time, the grim reaper offered me his hand, a way out. thankfully, i didn’t take it.

but, just as day follows the night, the end of the darkness finally came. the dark depths of depression had become a memory. i no longer feared the hated new day and the following night.

as life went on, it became clear i bounced somewhere between my heaven and hell. i could see my deep depression somewhere in the distant. turning and looking the other way, my idea life, my heaven, seemed just as far away.

this purgatory i find myself in sucks nearly as much as the deep depression. i am emotional well, with out a doubt. i find myself able to handle situations, some that i had not been unable to handle before. the focus, concentration, and intensity shines like the sun on an alaskan winter day. sure the brightness and hope always seems present yet they i wondered if they’d ever really show their true radiance.

i continue to be stuck somewhere between my heaven and hell. it seems nearly as draining as the deep depression. this puts me in a place where my life feels tangled in the fable of the fox and the grapes. i feel like the fox, trying to reach the grapes, my heaven. my fear is i’ll get tired of reaching for the grapes and walk away from my heaven figuring that the grapes were probably sour, anyway.