relapse..

Welcome to my world, won’t you come on in….then again, maybe not.

Relapse is defined as a return to a former state.

As souls who currently occupy these human bodies, we are subject to many limiting characteristics.

We have dreamt of flying since ancient times, but can’t, so we invented machines that can take us as close to flying as we will know. Those braver individuals who are not content to sit encased within a metal bullet, launch themselves with abandon from high buildings or rocky outcrops and fall semi-horizontally wearing nothing more than a rubber webbed suit.

We push the boundaries of everything that we feel trapped by, climbing to the pinnacle of everything just for than feeling of being there. So often I have stood at the summit of some peak, windswept and happy, drinking in the view and regaining my composure for the long descent.

There is within a unfathomable ‘other,’ a something, a longing, an eternal hole. It is defined by a million writers and psychological musings in countless ways, but it is there, shouting at us in our quiet moments and aching to be answered.

And so we drink.

The earliest civilisation had fermented drinks, not Fred Flintshire and Barney Rubble at the bowling but not far off of it. It’s amazing that as soon as men had life, they tried to escape it. But it all comes back to the ache, the hole, the emptiness, the need for satisfaction and fulfilment.

Those hours of escape release us from the need to think about why we are desperately pursuing adrenalin, or being high, or inebriation. They let us feel in control of something, even if it just being in control of when we are out of control.

I have spoken to those who have manic depression and are now medicated to control it in the day to day. Some of them admitted to stopping medication deliberately because they miss that manic phase, they missed the feeling of exhilaration that comes in the days before the crash and so are willing to face a spell in hospital to get the week of flying free.

My own addictive nature is not confined to substances.

That is not to say that given the opportunity it wouldn’t go there, hence the reason that certain parts of me are locked up behind a high wall.

All of this doesn’t necessarily need to be a negative thing. The wing suited fly boys live fast and often die young, the weekend climbers enjoy their world from a different perspective than the city dwellers. Were it not for these intrepid explorers we would not have North Face jackets to wear while walking to our next flight to somewhere, or planes to fly in for that matter.

Those addictive and obsessive thoughts that plague me can be turned for good when trying to solve a problem or prepare a sermon. But sometimes the darkness that follows closes the gap and clouds the good.

These days are in the minority now (thankfully) but they are no less despicable to endure for me or those around who need to endure the outward manifestation of it when they overtake for  a few days.

The important point is that one dark day doesn’t define me, what I do going forward does, whether I choose to succumb to it or stand up and fight will determine how long.