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I felt a funeral in my brain…

The thing about depression and anxiety is that it is illogical. When the thoughts come and I feel the fog and static go off in my head I think about all of the people who love me. I realize that I am ill. I understand it is the chemicals of my brain out of order. I see how much of it is a lie and yet it pulses with every heartbeat. The persistent hum of darkness.

A few years ago I fell in love with Emily Dickinson. One of her poems resonated with me on such a visceral level. When the cloak of darkness starts to wrap my mind, this descent into a kind of madness is best summed up in her words.

I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead,
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

And then a plank in reason, broke,
And I dropped down and down–
And hit a world at every plunge,
And finished knowing–then–

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