The clerk at Crisis Warehouse made the mistake of asking him “how he was” at a time in his life when he felt compelled to give the full account.
“I may have had a breakthrough this morning,” he said.
She leaned over the counter and whispered, “then maybe you should be at Breakthrough Warehouse.”
He shook his head. “It’s, I’m not sure. It’s like, I always thought, if I have no expectations of how a thing should be, I am never frustrated. And I just realized, now that I am hopeless, it’s similar, I am never disappointed.”
“Or maybe Wisdom Discount,” she said.
“But giving up disappointment and frustration leaves a great emptiness,” said the man.
“So it’s a crisis after all,” said the clerk.
“They don’t tell you that the things you try to fix, the sadness, desire and shame, the fear and guilt and anger, also sustain you. Like a tent built around the wrong frame.”
A man waiting his turn in line at the cash register asked, “is this going to take long?”
“Freedom from all the negatives can leave a great feeling of loss and emptiness,” said the clerk. “Because it really is a great loss.”
“I have nothing to fill it with right now.”
“So don’t,” said the clerk. “It’s okay to be empty sometimes. It’s okay to lie on the ground and watch your sadness blow away, get caught on a cyclone fence and flap in the wind, break loose and disappear into the dusk and trees.”
“Just don’t,” said the clerk. “Do nothing at all.”
“Do nothing at all,” she repeated.
“Have a nice day,” she said. “Don’t forget your crisis.”
“Next!” she said.
Tag Archives: depression
Careers in Science: Pteridology
Ferns by Ben Stanfield
The pteridologist is standing on the threshhold, half in the kitchen, half in the entryway, telling his wife a story while the broken espresso machine gleams on the counter as if it were going to transform into a lethal, chittering chrome Transformer any minute now.
“When I was a kid Uncle Phil took me and my brother and sister and cousins and the neighbor kids backpacking in the Chain Lakes by Mt. St. Helens in the summers. We carried heavy packs up steep trails for miles in the August sun. When we finally got where we were going and set down our packs, it felt like you would float away, like you could jump into the treetops. As if gravity had been cancelled. It was the best feeling in the world. And that is what this feels like now.”
His wife smiles.
“You gradually got heavy again, until the next time you set down the pack,” he says. “Of course.”
He doesn’t want to get his family’s hopes up, but he decides to tell them anyway – his wife and his daughters and some friends – because even though he suspects this is not a one-time cure but rather an on-going process — or rather, because he suspects this is an on-going process — he wants to share his joy with them, at this transformation; he wants them to have this little respite from his depression, and he wants them to, maybe, remind him when he starts backsliding to get back to work on it.
At first he had hoped to wait a year before telling anyone, rather than a week, but he thinks he will need help someday. A reminder or a pat on the back or hug or words of encouragement.
But it is a feeling like no other – a complete and sudden absence of something that he had carried for decades, more on than off the whole time.
“I don’t know if it works for everyone or only some people, but all I can say is a little book fixed me.”
The next day, despite his fears, he is still fine. And the day after that. Waking with no negative thoughts, levitating an inch above the mattress.
It takes about four days for the negative feelings to start nesting in him again. It takes him about 15 minutes to banish them again.
After that, it’s a daily process.
Like doing pushups.
He wishes he had known of this 20 years ago.
Better late than never.
Posted in Careers in Science, Das Gehirn, Familie, Metamorphosism