Rocking The Pit Of Despair. How Deep Is The Rabbit Hole?

Welcome to the Pit. It’s nice to see you again. #HarryHarlow

I followed the white rabbit of hypomania so innocently into the rabbit hole. The rabbit, he had been so inviting, fascinating and alluring. Is the rabbit’s hole the true nature of reality? The hole is infinitesimally deep and complex, filled with my existential thoughts.

I know I’m getting to a dark place when I start to consider caffeine as a food group. Trapped in the throes of depression. I’m tired from doing nothing all day, so I went and had a nap. The emotional ebb and flow, the little lessons, the temporality of a brief cure, creativity and focus had returned, the snake-pit of despair is ever overwhelming. The dead-end sense of the inevitable is becoming instilled. The ‘vertical chamber apparatus’ creates an awareness of the primal instinctive model of clinical depression.

I never once stopped to think how I would get out once I was already in. The apparent ‘real world’ is left far behind, the point where sense and nonsense meet. I’ve fallen into the rabbit hole and the hole is all too familiar. The smell of dread and despair greet me, no light, no shadows, just darkness. I keep heading down, not sure which way is up, maybe I am going up, maybe I’m going down. Rabbit holes are tricky like that. The more I fall, the easier it becomes to lie to myself down there, the darkness not judging. I know this place too well, the signs of the rabbit hole too evident, almost comfortable.

This darkness doesn’t have the lackadaisical yet euphoric smoking caterpillar at the end of the hole to help and guide you. There is just me and the tumult of my thoughts spinning wispy ribbons in the air. Which ‘madness’* is worse, the white rabbit or the rabbit hole? Asking myself – “does it matter?! Haven’t you been here too many times?! Aren’t you tired of this shit?!”

I can’t stay down there, the dark is always welcoming, but it is full of my miserable self-indulgence. I should try and look ‘Through the Looking-Glass’, seeing the reproductions of the real-world with a distinct difference, normal has become abnormal. If I look through the looking-glass will I find the eventual light? My eyes rejecting the brightness, my inner thoughts cowering at the intensity of the sun’s potential, but that too will become familiar.

Will the enchanting chaotic tea-party beckon to something else familiar inside, all-consuming, breaking the last resolve of the hole to be replaced with the alluring white rabbit?

I shall call myself Alice and play croquet with the flamingos. #TeamAlice

Welcome to the Pit. It’s nice to see you again. #HarryHarlow