The Dark Side of Depression.

Pickles are delicious. Not the sweet pickles though. I hate relish too. Kosher dill and sour are the best. I love to drink the pickle juice as well. Even before the jar is empty. I love the giant pickles you can get in the old school sub shops. I would always get a large meatball sub and a large dill pickle from the jar on the counter. I would take some of the meatballs out and cut up the pickle so i could  put it on the sub roll and then put the meatballs back. I've got heightened senses, so just talking about meatball subs has made me really hungry for one. I can taste the marinara sauce and Italian seasoning right now.  The tart of the pickle, the sweetness of the sauce, the warmth of the bread. I can really taste it. Sometimes i would crush up potato chips and spread them across the top of the sub. Having a heightened sense is good when I make food because i can recreate what I've eaten elsewhere. Piecing together all the things that make me content is my most relaxing of all tasks.
I try to apply the piecemeal recipe approach to other aspects of my life as well. Whether it be fitness, positive energy and knowledge, or creative writing and art. I can take elements from moods, days, feelings and piece them together into a writing, a workout, or even research project. I've always felt it important to apply all your senses and capture their meanings in time to use toward a lesson in life or just a silly joke. It makes it more authentic and convincing. That heightened sense also helps me remember the dark places i never wish to return.
The thing about the darkness though, it's the most deceivingly comforting. It makes you feel safe because you can be yourself without fear of judgment ( or so it makes you think.). People can't see your flaws, insecurities, and demons. I have demons. The darkness makes the blackest of clouds look like a guiding light. Thankfully I've found a true guiding light and have managed to escape the cold embrace of my own darkness.
Admittedly my mind does travel there sometimes, but i quickly use my tools of recipe making to snap back to reality. The biggest mistake you can make is to feed that darkness with drugs or alcohol to numb your pain. All that does is weaken your wits and bury you further into the lonely corners of your mind. I know this because i tried to bury my dark thoughts, and myself with excessive pills and alcohol. It really was a dark time. A time i welcomed rather than escape. I thought i would be safe. I created my own space inside my head where no one could through. To me it was a sanctuary, while others saw it for what it truly was: a tomb. To escape the noise i would go to that place in my mind where reason and love couldn't find me. I saw reason and love as my enemy. As someone out to get me, and destroy like the rest of the world. I blurred the lines between help and harm because i was wounded. And if i was going to go, i wanted to be the one to say how and when.
Sometimes at work I'll be holding a knife doing on of many random tasks and I'll lose sight for a moment and imagine plunging the knife into my stomach. My heightened senses can make me feel the cold steel bonding with the warm blood as they absorb my hands. I visualize this as if it were actually happening. I sort of like it. And the acknowledgement that i sort of like it brings me back to reality , and the guiding light ( not a religious reference, simmer down.). I need this little lapses in time to remind me i never wanna go back there. I never want to live that feeling again. I never wanna be alone on a pull out couch with a tattoo machine, permanently scarring my hand, because at that moment i thought i could catch a shooting star. That mark still remains on my body as a reminder. A reminder NEVER to return there, but also never forget that it always looms. Lonely like me.