Jessica Kantrowitz - The Long Night: Readings and Stories to Help You through Depression

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, What is it?
Let us go and make our visit.

~T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Come for a walk with me, my friend. I know you are tired. I know that sorrow has settled into your bones like the ache from an old wound. Come with me anyway. Lean on my arm. It is only a few steps to the forests entrance and a few more to a bench where we can rest. I know the colors have gone out of your life, and you cannot rouse yourself to remember them. I know. In the twilight, the world is muted, and it will not sting as much when you can only see grey. We can turn back anytime. Your bed will be waiting for you. Just come out for a few minutes.

Come for a walk with me, dear one. I know that walking is hard, and your muscles ache; you feel a weariness that does not pass no matter how much you sleep. I know that talking feels impossible, and you fear that if you do speak, you will be unable to stop and will wear me out with your words, crying over and over of your pain and despair. Its all right, my friend. You do not have to speak, and if you do, there is space in my heart and in the forest for all your pain. There is space for you, my friend, believe me. Come and weep or come and be silent. Just come.

Come for a walk with me, Beloved. I know you feel nothing but loneliness and being with people makes you feel even more alone. I know you feel lost and left behind, abandoned by friends and by the God you once adored. I know you feel a betrayal so sharp and real that sometimes you cannot breathe. I know that when I call you Gods Beloved it rings hollow, that if I speak the words of poetry or scripture that used to mean something to you, they now taste like sand in your mouth. Come into the whispering darkness of the trees at twilight and listen to the scripture they speak. Come into the shadows of the oaks and lindens until the darkness outside matches the darkness in your soul. Then listen to how the dark speaks its own language, one you could not hear in the bright light of day. If you do not hear it tonight, thats okay, too. I will walk you home, regardless. I will trust your soul, regardless. Beloved, I will.

Come for a walk with me, sister, brother, sibling. I have been here before and can maybe be a sister to you. Let me hold your hand as you learn to walk in this new world. You have been walking for years in the daylight, but thisthis westering world where the shadows trip you as surely as the stonesis new territory. It is hard to move here, I know, but you can do it. We can do it together. Underneath your despair I can see that spark of strength. Not everyone will realize how much it took for you to step outside for these few minutes, but I know. Even if you collapse back in bed for the next twenty-three and a half hours, I know that the courage and strength it takes to face the world for those few moments are almost unimaginable. I know you feel so weak, little sibling, but you are strong in ways few people will ever know.

Come for a walk with me, dear reader. I know you have questions I cannot answer, and there are things in your life I cannot understand. But lets go out together tonight, away from the cacophony of the city, of the daylight, of the world wide web. Lets go into the dusky woods together, the quiet dappled evening where the trolls and other monsters cannot follow. Lets find one of the Ten Thousand Places, one of the hidden places where its okay to be sad and unsure, where its okay to ask our overwhelming questions and okay to let the answer be that we dont know. I know youre tired, and the day has already been far too long. You can rest soon, dear one, I promise. Only first, come, come for a walk.