Peace of mind can’t be bought…

I found treasure not where I thought
Peace of mind can’t be bought
Still I believe

 

Just hang on
Suffer well
Sometimes it’s hard
It’s hard to tell

 

suffer well depeche mode

It is winter, but there is no snow – not yet at least. Usually it is the snow, with its cold, lingering drab and grey dullness that causes my mood to drop into a downward spiral.

Not this year.

While we’ve been blessed with many sunny days and warmer than usual temperatures so far this winter, my body and mind know otherwise and have conspired to pull me back under the thick, heavy blanket of Depression.

I’ve fought it off successfully so far, but I am growing weaker with every day that passes. I catch tears falling from my eyes for no reason while driving, or feeling so isolated and alone in a crowded room.

It really hit the other night while out at the goth club dancing. Depression, that shady fucker, invaded me while I was in the midst of dancing.

Music and dancing, it turns out, were the antidote to my depression. Nothing made me feel more alive and powerful than getting lost in the music of my younger days, zoning out and completely immersing myself in that positive life force. It was a surreal and otherworldly energy that made me feel almost invincible.

Fuck the synthetic joy of prescription meds, I had found my life saving force field against Depression and his evil minions.

Since discovering my lifeline and force field against Depression, I’ve gone out more often to dance – even if the music isn’t as killer as the Nine of Clubs nights I love attending.  

I had a bad taste in my mouth from my previous experiences at The Chamber – the Goth club located downstairs from The Phantasy, where the Nine nights are held – but I started going again, with an open mind.

Turns out there are some older Goths sprinkled in with the much younger crowd there. That was refreshing. While I don’t consider myself a full-fledged Goth – I’m more a hybrid Punk-Goth – I do enjoy Gothic and Industrial music just as much as Punk and Post-Punk.

The music at The Chamber isn’t what I remember from the nights when they first opened their doors in the mid-90’s, but I do try and keep an open mind. When going out, I’ll get a few choice older tracks, usually by Depeche Mode, Peter Murphy, Clan of Xymox, Gary Numan, The Cure and Siouxsie. That’s good enough to feed on and enjoy. 

Just like any good enemy, Depression stayed in the background biding time, found my secret weapon and figured out a way to get to me.

I first noticed the attack on New Year’s Eve while dancing to Ministry, “Work for Love” – one of my favorite classic Ministry songs. While I was focused on having fun, I must have let my defenses down and in crept Depression, as I felt my happy dancing mojo being slowly sucked away. 

Sitting at the table a while later, almost completely zoned out, a girl came up to me and asked if I was having a fun time. I smiled and said “Oh yeah!” She smiled back and said something to the effect of, “Just wanted to make sure, in case you were waiting for someone to ask so you could say no or something.” 

I was into the music and event, but I felt Depression’s paralyzing effect start to overtake me.

That’s when the isolationism started.

I’m used to fading into the background at clubs, but I was starting to meet people there and getting more social – well, trying to at least. The room suddenly grew bigger, with me moving further away from everyone and everything around me. 

The guy I was there with doesn’t know me well enough to have noticed my distance and my sudden displacement. 

Shortly after, anger started to boil up inside me.

Anger at myself for not getting up and dancing more.

Anger at the guy I was with for his displeasure with some of the music choices the DJ’s played. 

Anger for allowing Depression this sneak attack in my sacred music space. 

I was almost relieved when my pseudo-date said he wanted to leave. Perfect excuse for me to leave as well, even though one of my favorite dance tracks started playing (“Doctorin’ The TARDIS” by The Timelords) It’s not like I would have gone out and danced anyways, not with Depression dragging me down. 

The ride home found me with mixed feelings. I didn’t realize the full effect of Depression’s sneak attack until the next morning, while laying in bed rehashing the night in my mind. My lack of vigilance was the crack Depression used to slay me.

I have to be more mindful when out enjoying myself. I cannot for one moment think I am safe from Depression and its cold, hard grip on me. 

This is my own personal hell. 

Peace of mind can’t be bought – I suffer well. 

 

we sell hell