The Grace of Rattlesnakes

….rattlesnakes and madness…

Running up that Hill with Dogs

In 1994 I had a major depressive crisis. The night it happened felt like the end of the world in a way that defies explanation outside of poetry or literature. It doesn’t lend itself to narrative or exposition. In any case, my roommate, a boy of 19, was over his head when I, a woman of 42, emerged from my room distraught and mad, saying, “I just wanna’ die!”

Somehow he had the presence of mind to tell me I was having a nervous breakdown, to go to bed with me and lie beside me, holding my hand until morning. It was the longest night of my life. Outside my window black branches reached toward me with evil fingers trying to capture what remained of my soul, an image common to people descending into the mind’s dark void.

My brain tried over and over again to reconcile what it KNEW…

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