Purgatory...

My memory of lessons about purgatory are from Catholic School lessons. Learning about this "place" this place where one was sent when you weren't quite fit for Heaven, but you didn't warrant being sent to hell. I think it's where suicide folks go or perhaps reformed prisoners. I am living in purgatory. Through my work in therapy, I am making progress. I have no idea how to measure it except to say that I'm still here, alive on this planet. Sometimes the moments of despair leave me feeling trapped, trapped in purgatory, limbo, not quite grounded or at peace but more in a state of darkness or frustration or even hatred for myself. I see this thin veil of grey film over my eyes and though I can see joy or relief on the other side, I can't get past the grey. What the f*@k? It's discouraging and frustrating and yet, I am on autopilot. I think of the Diving Bell and the Butterfly, the book written by the former editor of Vogue, who found himself living in a state of complete paralysis after a stroke. The only control he had over any of his features was one eyelid. He could hear everything people said and see everything they did but he could not speak...
C'mon let me out, it's too dark in here...