Emotional Barophobia and the Zombie Apocalypse

I felt good today.

There is some trepidation in saying that. OK, a lot of trepidation.  Blame it on emotional barophobia.   What goes up must come down.  Another theory that I do not suggest upsetting by trying to go all Mythbusters on it.

What goes up must come down. Sometimes down hard, hard like a meteor that failed to burn up in the earth’s atmosphere and left a crater so immeasurably deep that it wiped out the dinosaurs because it kicked up enough dust to block out the sun for two consecutive years. That hard. Sometimes what goes up comes down very hard and very down.  Should that inspire worry? Anxiety? Fear?

And yes I am making up a new medical term by applying the fear of gravity to what it is like trying to come out of depression and move forward towards wellness, so don’t bother reaching for your desk copy of the DSM-IV that I imagine most folks keep by their bedside for some light reading when fear of the next zombie apocalypse keeps you awake.  It is not there. You’re welcome.

On the face of it, it is absurd, the idea that feeling a little bit of joy might kick up some fear, some corner of one’s brain suggesting half-life values of joy shorter than the length of an average Youtube(tm) video [ four minutes and 12 seconds for those curious]. Crazy. Well, that is another word like “normal” from which we need to move away.  And since we are talking about zombies, have you ever noticed that they never get too joyful or too sad? Their keel stays just about even.  It works for them. And I am not sure that they process the risks involved in feeling joy like some of us who have stumbled down depression way might and so often do. Lucky zombies.

As someone whose top of the bucket list includes walking the road from Katmandu to Everest Base Camp, a life defined by an even keel in which peaks are sacrificed to avoid the risk of valleys, the goings up traded for an extra helping of the unvarying and expected instead of the comings down sounds like some version of hell. But depression is like being bitten by some huge spider, paralyzed and trapped in a web, as you watch life pass you by, opportunities lost one after another, the kids growing older, your spouse trying in vain to bring you up from the place and to coax you out to behold life as it is unfolding before you in all of its splendor and beauty.  

But today, I felt good. I can live with that.  

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