I don’t think the mythos of apocalypse is understood well by the majority of people. Most think it means the destruction of life itself. That’s only half-true. Apocalypse also requires a conscious rebirth afterwards (all cliche phoenix metaphors included)
Today, I broke down. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. After the constraints of the college finals, my unstable living situation (not to mention this side problem called civilization), I leaned against the door of my apartment with my roommate home for the weekend and none of my few Philadelphia friends in touch, practically pining over my ex-girlfriend, with a possible $200 fine for 2 CD’s missing and just broke down. I discovered the CD’s a few minutes afterward and I calmed down.
Then some small realizations came to light. I realized I wasn’t the only one whose housing situation is in turmoil. I know I’m not the only one with nothing to do tonight. I suddenly had a sobering, but strangely calming epiphany after I believed my world to have collapsed in on itself. It wasn’t happy, but it was reassuring.
This is why I think the American Indian notion of collapse being a harbinger of great change is true. Had the depression overwhelmed me entirely, I would have committed suicide. But for however many people and things this culture will kill, it cannot kill everything. Because I had a lifeboat to guide me back to sanity, I could heal myself. And so can the homo sapiens post-collapse. I believe, from this microcosm of psychology in me, there are only cuts so deep and so damaging until the sword of this culture can’t reach any longer. And at that point, the victim regroups. And maybe fights back.