Being at the cabin does not, unfortunately, provide a magical layer of mystic happiness over everything. Or, if it does, The Black Thing has found a way to penetrate that defense, as it seeks out vulnerabilities and looks for weaknesses in my armor.
Unfortunately, It found one.
A couple days ago, Lynn told me that he’d come into the game room, where she was visiting with some friends. Nothing was said, she just continued her conversation and eventually he left, or she did, I’m not certain. No big deal, or it shouldn’t have been- indeed, as Lynn observed, she hadn’t seen him for months, and hadn’t thought of him in ages- except for a question I had asked her the night before, about their relationship and what they did or didn’t do on the phone.
So, certainly nothing to fall into a tailspin about- and, actually, I didn’t, in regards to the asshole.
No, The Black Thing was too sneaky for that. Using that as an opening, it managed to fill my heart and head with thoughts of being useless, of being not enough, of being unable to care for and take care of the needs of Lynn, and the kids.
Such overwhelming feelings of self-loathing, as if a year hadn’t passed, as if I’d not been moving steadily along a path toward brightness and light and love. Such an overwhelming black coldness in my heart, feeling as if I was unlovable, and certainly they’d all be better off without me. Even those feelings get torqued around, for if I was worth anything, I should be able to keep these feelings from showing, from affecting Lynn.
Clever, clever Black Thing. Tried to make my despair overwhelming, right then and there. Tried to make Lynn’s tears a catalyst for my own removal, for if I made her cry, I must be worth than useless, worth less than dogshit, right?
Oh, it can be subtle- twisting Lynn’s tears of caring and of love for me, into an indictment of my own worth. Very tricky, Black Thing.
But, I have news for you:
It didn’t work.
I’m still here, I’m still alive, and I’m even more certain than ever of Lynn’s love for me, of the kid’s need of me, of my own value as a person, a husband, a father.
You don’t get me that easily, you sneaky, dispicible, un-lovable portion of my own mind that tries tirelessly to win out.
Nope. Not this time, not next time, not ever.