The Center Cannot Hold: My Journey Through Madness

by Elyn R. Saks

In fact, it is not necessarily true that everything can be conquered with willpower. There are forces of nature and circumstance that are beyond our control, let alone our understanding, and to insist on victory in the face of this, to accept nothing less, is just asking for a soul-pummeling. The simple truth is, not every fight can be won.

I lay awake in a pool of sweat, unable to sleep, a mantra running through my head: I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. Time stopped. By the middle of the night, I was convinced day would never come again. The thoughts of death were all around me; I realized then that they had begun the summer before, like a small trickle in a creek where I had gone wading. Since then, the water had been steadily rising. Now it was deep and fast and slowly threatening to cover my head.

Never tell them anything you don’t have to tell them. Never volunteer any information they don’t ask for.

The hallways were narrow and dingy, classic institutional interior decorating. The people here are all crazy, so who cares if it’s ugly?

Right now, wherever you are—in your room, in a library, on a park bench, on a bus—literally hundreds of things clamor for your attention. On the outside, there are sights, sounds, and smells; on the inside, you have your thoughts, feelings, memories, wishes, dreams, and fears. Each and every one of these, both inside and out, is knocking at your door, all at once.