“The beast in me
Is caged by frail and fragile bars
Restless by day
And by night rants and rages at the stars
God help the beast in me

The beast in me
Has had to learn to live with pain
And how to shelter from the rain
And in the twinkling of an eye
Might have to be restrained
God help the beast in me

Sometimes it tries to kid me
That it’s just a teddy bear
And even somehow manage to vanish in the air
And that is when I must beware
Of the beast in me
That everybody knows
They’ve seen him out dressed in my clothes
Patently unclear
If it’s New York or New Year
God help the beast in me

The beast in me”

–Johnny Cash

We’re told that our bodies are host to a virtual zoo of bacteria numbering in the millions. And those bacteria, though potentially gruesome to think about on an individual level, help us live and grow, age and die. And our minds are simply vast networks of neurons and synapses, firing and stimulating, somehow collectively creating consciousness. My one solid, physical self isn’t very solid at all. Every 7 years my cells have replaced themselves. Born anew again and again. And yet… despite this cacophony of little bits and pieces that manufacture my existence, I am threatened daily by one thing. The beast in me.

It’s the singular voice and belief that I am useless. It’s the anxiety and depression that motivates me to hide away and sulk. It’s the addictive voice that asks to be fed with alcohol and pills. It’s the scared little boy that needs to be protected. It’s the beast within that has me running constantly and going nowhere at all.

Now in the spirit of academic honesty (and helping me keep track of my references) I should mention that the concept of an internal “addictive voice” and referring to it as “the Beast” actually came from a website called Rational Recovery. My therapist recommended it to me when we were discussing the possibility of my alcohol dependency and abuse. It struck a chord with me when I read their explanation, but as I’ve sat with the idea for a few weeks I now feel like my own “beast” isn’t an active desire or compulsion. It’s the opposite.

Like “the Nothing” in The Never-Ending Story, my own internal beast is more like an absence. Apathy or atrophy. A loss of enthusiasm or blissful ignorance. A deadly force that will eventually break me apart from the inside. It may manifest as desire to drink or anxiety about everything, but at it’s core it is simply an absence.

So the question becomes… how to handle the beast in me? Is my dissolution inevitable? This seems a mundane question because so many of us cursed with consciousness feel the same… and yet we all feel it individually. And I’m not sure of where to apply pressure and where to try to absolve myself. This nothingness is real.

Lately in a moment, in the mirror, I am able to see myself as viable… attractive even. But then when I’m in a therapy situation … it all falls apart. Right now I’m all sorts of apart. The beast is winning. I find it difficult to take up space in my own life. And Thom seems ambivalent about me… which shouldn’t matter like it does but the Beast has weakened my sense of self and left me vulnerable to attack. If he doesn’t care… then how can I care?

And yet I’m still up and moving. I get dressed everyday and smile at young people and animals. I look up and find beauty. (I also find hidden places for my secret indulgences and then castigate myself afterwards and make plans to stop.) I carry some small hope that I might tame this beast. I haven’t yet quit trying.