Monday, April 27, 2015

Reflection #6/40

When Alice and I lived in Columbus she attended seminary at Bexley Hall. She graduated in 2005 and got an internship at the Church of the Redeemer in Cincinnati. The only things I knew about Cincinnati were that they put spaghetti in their chili, they’d recently had race riots, and they didn’t like the Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit. I had no desire to move to Cincinnati, and even less desire to leave my friends in Columbus.

During those last few months in Columbus, counting down to moving day, I felt an increasing sense of dread. Near the end, I became anhedonic. I wasn’t sad, exactly, but I didn’t feel any pleasure or happiness. I remember one afternoon when I got home from work—it was a nice day out, and we had no other obligations for the evening—and Alice asked me what I wanted to do. I said nothing, there is nothing I want to do, nothing appeals to me. All I could do was sit on the couch and stare at the wall. At that point I did not see myself ever being happy again.

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