Sometimes catatonia seems so luxurious. I'm just wondering about things and I don't know what to do next, how to move, should I put my arm up or down, and I just stand there. After a minute or two my vision starts to loose focus and I think it would be wonderful if I could stay like this. After a few minutes something kicks in and I realize there may be people watching and they would ask if I were ok. And I would be bound to answer and have to move again or they would just think I was a little "off". So I walk a few steps and move a bit but it comes back, this inability to decide even the smallest movement and I stand and stare and my eyes start to loose focus. Sometimes I feel myself smiling a half smile for a few minutes until it hits me that people will think I have lost it and try to take my life away and make things horrible for my kids. Sometimes I move inside and go to a room where no one is and luxuriate in not moving, thinking, and let my vision blur and look for things in the confusion, not real or definite things but just this wonderful blur. And then my kids walk in or my wife yells and the world comes back and the depersonalization is rudely cut away.
I imagine that is what God must feel like to the ecstatic religious. No movement, no decision, alone without judgement and everything out of focus and warm and soft edges. And I never have to move again or decide anything or even see with clarity. It feels luxurious and I often want to stay there. But I have kids and a family and I love them and know they are what matters and could not reach this place without a life of disappointment and error. And I don't want them to know this feeling anyway. So I go back and pretend to be a real human, a real person again, and the best dad. But I always think about how luxurious it felt to not move or think or see.