Annedonia causes us to feel that nothing is pleasurable. How do you fight it?
How do you fight the lack of something. If something isn’t there, if it’s missing, how can you address it. If your food has no flavor, you can’t make it appear. You chew and swallow, chew and swallow, because you know you should. Get it done, get it over with, on to the next thing to get done. Annedonia is my passive aggressive enemy. It’s simply not available to chat with. I feel the lack of enjoyment, an empty room, but I don’t know how to fill it. Keep going, keep doing, hoping for at least one moment of joy eventually, to keep me going hoping for the next one. I get out my tried and trues, but what a disappointment when they taste like ashes in my mouth. I look for escapes. Things to take me out of the moment, out of this moment, out of any moment. Then on to the next. Lather, rinse, repeat. Again. And again.
Then, suddenly, totally unexpected, I feel a surge of joy. I savor it, hold it close, snuggle my face into its comfort. And then I blink and it’s gone. The grey has returned, filling everything with sand. The weight of existing returns, my limbs are heavy and awkward again. But one thing has changed, now I know it’s still possible for me to feel joy. And I place this coin of hope into a locket in my heart, and I hold onto it tightly.
It’s possible. I’m not completely broken. It’s possible. I can find my way out of this fog. I’m wearing my life preserver now, and it’s tethered with a thick rope, off too far from me to see, taut, but holding strong.