On Demons

I recently talked with three people, each of whom is going through a difficult time due to personal circumstances.  I’ve known these people forever – two are close relatives and the third is a childhood friend.  I wanted to reach out, to help them in some way, but there was nothing I could do that would materially help their situations.  Their challenges are quite different, and they each face their demons alone.  I can only wish them the best, and hope that they know I'm here for them.

This got me to thinking about the universal nature of demons.  We all face them, and we each deal with our own, in our own way.  Some of us are tortured, for whatever reason, more than others.  In the end, hopefully, we find a way forward.

The silent veil of night is pierced by an alarm clock.  Awakening each morning is, and always has been, his very worst moment, the low point of his day.  Rising in total darkness is unpleasant in its own right; the shadows will soon extend to include his entire morning commute.  And his evening commute.  This marks his annual reversion to a mole-like existence in which the sun exists only on the weekends, and even then, low on the horizon, casting long shadows.

His demon simmers, just below the surface of his outward self, as always.  He had been relatively free of its grip for a while, owing to some combination of extreme busy-ness and friendly chemicals.  But fall has returned, and this is its time.

He is acutely aware of losses, large and small.  Poor decisions, ill-timed investments, loved ones gone too soon, squandered opportunities, friendships long abandoned, long-gone youth, and ultimately, the loss of his capacity to care about any of it.  All gone, finis.

He has always had great difficulty with vision.  Not eyesight, but the ability to imagine a future beyond today.  Now this lack of vision also clouds the past.  Decades that should be reflected in a lifetime of pleasant memories exist only in foggy recollections of random events. He struggles to summon meaningful contexts.  Regrets alone become clearer with time.

To others, he appears as different people, chameleon-like.  Some find him gregarious, others reserved. What they do not understand is that they’re watching a play unfold.  Lines are recited, movements controlled, choreographed.  He is not insincere; this is simply all he has to give, and going through the motions thoroughly exhausts him.

At day’s end, he wants for little more than to engage in some minor self-destructive behavior, to self-medicate, to retreat to the relative peacefulness of his bed.

 

Our youngest child has left for college. There is quiet now - the absence of ruckus, of disarray, of drama.  This is new.  The nest is empty.  The house feels big, for the first time in a long time.  My wife and I rather like it.

Our children are children no longer.  Grown and gone, however temporary their absence, I’m left to ponder what I’ve given them.  Materially, they can’t possibly have any complaints.  They have all that they need and then some.  But we all know that that’s just stuff.  I have failed them in ways that count.  My serious nature, my stoicism, the demon that has robbed me, has robbed them as well. 

I have tried – truly, I have – to lead by example in matters of character.  Although I am deeply flawed, as are most of us, I am honest and true to my word, always.  It’s a point of pride.  Whether that will resonate, or truly matter in their lives remains to be seen.  I should have found a way to be more “fun.”  I didn’t.  Now there is a distance for which I hope, someday, to find a bridge.

My thoughts are with those who continue to wrestle their demons.  May they – may we - find the strength to prevail.