The Voyage Of The Nervous Treader
Have you ever read Voyage of the Dawn Treader and wondered why exactly it is that Peter and Susan never return? Maybe not, because maybe you read the book and figured the explanation that they were too old was good enough. And why is there any need to involve Eustace? He’s an insufferable brat, why would C.S. Lewis think that was a good addition?
Well I haven’t studied the book extensively, in fact it was a pretty long time ago I read it. But my guess, is it’s because it’s a tale of growing up. Peter and Susan are past growing up, they’re young adults already. Eustace is a little sh*t in need of a lot of maturing, so it’s the perfect way to show how much this trip has helped them grow up. The worse a person is the easier it is to spot the difference.
My move to Bristol, England was a growing process that’s still ongoing. It began with the naive assumption that moving would make me a happier person. Completely unaware of the constant perils heading my way, just like Edmund and Lucy. I excitedly headed off on my adventure, what a grand adventure it would be. With a fine vessel like The Nervous Treader how could anything go wrong in Depressionia?
I was doing the same kind of work (because it requires a few years training so why not do it and get paid more?), living my life in the same anti-social way and it was costing me more money because the parents weren’t paying my bills any more. When you break it down like that you wonder how on Earth I could have imagined I’d be happier. It wasn’t long before I was lost amongst the fog and stumbling into trouble. Eustace may have stumbled into a huge pile of gold and a dead dragon, but in pursuit of more gold I had stumbled into an all too familiar dragon’s den, the dragon was not dead. My job made me miserable which was not a good lot of help with the depression. I was going to have to slay that dragon by myself… I make this seem like it was a quick and easy realisation and action event. It wasn’t. It took me two years to hand in my resignation.
At this workplace I had been determined not to let my depression make me the cruel, dark person I had slipped into before. But when you’re miserable it’s hard to do that. The job had to go or I’d be back being the kind of person I wasn’t proud of.
The voyage to Bristol had not made me more social, so to be honest the people of the city might as well have been the invisible Duffers. I still haven’t bumped into a wizard by the name of Coriarkin to gain a new perspective on the Duffers. When I do, perhaps I’ll suddenly desire socialisation with them…
On the last island the Dawn Treader crew searched for the missing lords, they found them under a spell/curse type thing that had a straight forward if sacrificial cure. The trouble is this isn’t Narnia, this is Depressionia. That spell/curse type thing is just depression. And the cure isn’t straightforward, but it’ll no doubt be sacrificial. What I’m saying is that the Nervous Treader hasn’t completed it’s voyage yet. Not only have I not found a pond that changes things to gold, but I still have a lot of sailing around Depressionia ahead of me, to lift the curse.
Navigating Depressionia can be tough going though so hopefully my first doctors appointment tomorrow will start drawing up some charts for progress. I think that’s everything you need to know about my depression up until now. If I think of anything, or it becomes relevant as I go through the therapy process I’ll let you know. I don’t plan to hold anything but my identity back from you.