I was listening to Bruce Sprinsteen's cd, Magic, while scrubbing the sink this morning and one song in particular struck me.
'Your own worst enemy has come to town,' Bruce sings. I don't know what he means by this - and researching it nobody seems very sure if it's political or personal - but that's the great thing about Springsteen's songs: they speak to you and find you where you are. (Actually I think today I'll be grateful for the music of Springsteen.)
One commentator said, 'Self-loathing never sounded so gorgeous as in this.' I think I'd describe my own worst enemy in the way that Churchilll described him: the black dog.
Let me stress that I suffer only very mildly from anxiety and depression. My condition is kept under control by just one pill and normally I'm fine. But every now and again I find myself feeling down for no especial reason and then my own worst enemy, self-loathing, comes to the fore. And then it passes.
But it's horrible while it visits and very difficult to resist. Which is a good introduction to my next post. I don't want to put it in with this as it deserves a post all of its own.