God and Satan are in the Grass

I no longer suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD. My depression now lasted through the year. In fact, it was worse in the Spring and Summer. The warm weather, the beach, and the amusements of the semi-clothed vapid only served to remind me of how black my soul really was. I used to love summer mornings when my Grammy made bacon and eggs for all of us and we trekked to the beach by 8am. Now it was difficult to get up before 1pm. And then I needed coffee.

Depression makes it difficult to complete even small, everyday tasks. The everyday suffers the most. What's the point of scrubbing the kitchen floor or taking out the trash in a universe that is inherently meaningless? A cold, dry, mechanical universe made up of nothing but information stripped of all emotional or spiritual value. I didn't kill myself because I knew that I had once been happy. In addition to summer mornings with family were the many times a pretty girl had given me butterflies in my tummy. A lot made me happy, but my depression made it mostly unavailable.

It was a 90degree day in June. I didn't take a shower because what was the point of showering in said universe? I had not showered in over a week. I had not brushed my teeth in three weeks. I had not changed my clothes in two months.

I loaded seven tablespoons of coffee into the coffee machine. Seven spoons for one cup. Once the cup was ready I sprinkled instant coffee over the top, like cinnamon over cappuccino. This was to be the first of seven cups. Like an addict, I used coffee to wake up and to get "up" because no other legal substance could get me so "up." I didn't have the social skills to be a druggie. That required meeting people. I was in too bad of shape to be a druggie.

I looked out the window at my lawn. The grass and weeds were knee-high and I knew it was only a matter of time before I received a summons from the township. I was planning on mowing, but my mower was broken. Some kind of engine issue. I moved in slow-motion for everything other than coffee. Finding a working lawnmower seemed a Herculean task.

I walked into my backyard and saw my neighbor, Jimmy. A handsome Latino man, his family were the pillars of the neighborhood. Devout Christians, they attended church events on a near-daily basis. I often saw them leaving the house dressed in their best and clutching their prayer books and other paraphernalia.

"Hey, when are you going to mow that lawn?" asked Jimmy. As if the maintenance of one's lawn was of paramount importance in this short, squalid, miserable life. Jimmy was often in his backyard working on various home and garden projects. I wondered what he was hiding from. Did he work to distract himself from the reality that his religion was a lie? Was hard work his way of not thinking about death? Hard work was a distraction from thoughts about death. What other purpose was there to home and yard work? Are you telling me that Jimmy was genuinely impressed by bourgeois aesthetics? Even when not depressed I did not understand why anyone cared about their neighbor's lawn. As long as my mess did not spread to his side, what did he care?

"Oh, well, I really want to mow the lawn, but my mower is broken. I need to borrow a mower," I said.

"Well, you better do it before you get another summons," said Jimmy. This confirmed to me that Jimmy had indeed been responsible for the last two summonses I had received from the township. He worked for the town and it was only too easy for him to snitch on me. Considering how much my lawn bothered him, the least he could have done was loan me a mower.

Did Jimmy not see or sense that I was ill with depression and that I needed help, not censure? A true Christian helps his brothers, acts as his brother's keeper, steers his brother along the right path. I'm not a Christian, so I don't have to act as my brother's keeper, but Jimmy is a Christian.

If Jimmy were truly a Christian he would have crossed over to my yard and hugged me the minute I walked out the door.

I imagined this scenario:

"Oh, my son!" he says. "Are you suffering inside? Are you hurting? In the spirit of my master, of my Lord and Savior I offer my love and charity to you. With Christ's compassion I will offer you whatever you may need."

"Well, I just need to borrow your lawnmower," I say.

"What is mine is yours. 'Store not treasures upon this earth where moth and rust doth corrupt.' What does anything of this earth matter? We all just have a brief, fleeting moment to devote ourselves to the Lord our God. Take my house! Take my food. Take the clothes off my back if that is what you need. Anything you need. Jesus abjured his followers to give up all possessions and follow him. Oh, my son! I see that you are sick. How may I help you? Are you lonely?"

At this point I break down and cry.

"Yes. Yes, I am lonely," I say. "Most of my family has abandoned me! They don't understand. They don't know how hard it is. I just want to be happy like everyone else but it is so hard for me. It's like there's something missing in my brain. But... But... I know I could get myself together if I were not so lonely..." I choke out a few sobs.

"Oh, my son, my brother. Don't cry. You will never be alone again. Christ will be with you. And my family is now your family. You may come over for dinner every night. But I will make you do tasks around my yard to pay for your keep. The Lord does not like a sluggard and I will engage you in plenty of hard work to fuel your appetite. Then, as a reward for your labor, you will sit at my table, a table of love, family and laughter."

"Oh, thank you! Oh, thank you."

This is what Jimmy would have said had he truly been a Christian. Did not Jesus say that the sick man is most in need of his help? Jesus would not have been with the sheep-like bourgeois Christians. He would have been with people like me. Jesus would have spent his time in the house with the overgrown lawn.

This is why it is important to hold a decent balance between God and Satan. Both are important and worthy of worship. Both comfort one when times are bad and elevate one when times are good. This is what makes me so much more dynamic than Jimmy. And this must have been what his daughter saw in me.

She was allowing me to watch her undress every night. A hot, little 21 year old girl. She unsnapped her bra every night. I watched her perky breasts fall out of her bra every night. If he wants to look over at my place, I will look over at his. THIS was the cure for my depression. Time to wake up early again.

Oh, Satan, how I love thee!