They say everybody has demons. I'm here to tell you about mine. Metaphorically speaking, I mean. Literal demons don't like it when you talk shit behind their back, so let's just focus on the metaphorical ones for now. The first one creeps into my life unnoticed, deceptively quiet for its size. It's a dark, oozing thing; it slithers in through the tiniest cracks in my armor, finds a foothold in even the slightest hole or crevasse. Whenever I feel like I can't do something, or life is overwhelming, or my goals are just pipe dreams, it wraps me in its familiar embrace. At first its weight almost seems a comfort, an old friend - the warm hug of a weighted blanket, settling over my tired limbs and keeping them in place.
"It's okay to give up," it soothes in a soft, kind whisper. "It's all pointless anyway. There's no sense in trying. You'll always fail." My rational mind tries to fight this demon's influence, but by the time I realize it's got a hold of me it's usually too late: the gentle weight of it wrapped around me quickly becomes a suffocating vise, and that crooning voice turns mocking as I struggle in its grasp. It continues to drip its poison into my ear until I'm sluggish and unable to focus, limbs heavy and slow, until I start to believe the lies it feeds me, until I'm stuffed full and bloated on my own defeat, ready to give in to the dark. It has a friend. Where the first demon approaches silently, preferring to sneak up on me through the shadows, its friend crashes into my life with its fangs bared, a roaring, growling, slathering beast. It rips and tears with its claws, turning my insides into knots, teeth gnashing at my throat until I can't swallow or breathe or scream. It reminds me of all the things that need to be done, or that never got done, or that I should be doing RIGHT NOW. It twists and pulls me in every direction at once, until I'm dizzy and frantic and nauseated, ready to split down the middle and fall apart. Sometimes they visit me one at a time; often, they prefer to work as a team. The first turns me into a lotus-eater, complacent and listless. The second swoops in when I'm defenseless and tosses me around, a limp marionette with a plastic smile dancing jerkily on her strings. Some of you might find this melodramatic; for some you, it might sound all too familiar. You may get visits from these same demons, as they are legion, and they are many. They might look a little different for you - they are shapeshifters with many faces and a unique plan of attack for every victim. The myths say that naming a demon takes away some of its power, so let's assume the same is true of metaphorical demons. Depression and its ally, Anxiety, thrive in the dark when we refuse to name them. They seem all-powerful and indestructible when we try to face them alone. Fuck 'em. I'm speaking out now, scarred and breathless from a recent battle of my own, but alive and momentarily victorious. I am here to remind you that depression and anxiety are liars, as all demons are. They might appear as unspeakable terrors in the dead of night, but in the cold light of dawn they shrivel and cower before the sun. In other words: they ain't shit. You're tougher than them. I know it's easy to forget sometimes, but trust me. You can fight them, and you can win. Use whatever tools you have available in your arsenal, be it medication, therapy, spirituality, the power of friendship, or the bull-headed tenacity of the human spirit. Don't let people who have never been in this fight shame you for doing what you have to do to win, and especially don't let them tell you that you're weak for talking about your struggles or reaching out for help. They ain't shit either. I also want to leave this as a reminder for my future self for when these demons come back (I know they're not gone for good because my mama raised me smarter than that). Life sucks sometimes and when it sucks, these assholes are going to come back around trying to peddle the same old bullshit. I'm going to try to remember the words of one of the great poets of our time: "I'm meaner than my demons; I'm bigger than these bones." The world is dark and scary, but I can be scary too. Even if it's just out of spite, I will beat my demons. I will survive.
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AuthorSarah Fettke is an aspiring horror author from Kansas City, Missouri. This is a place to collect her explorations of the queer, peculiar, and strange. Archives
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