Dionysos.

There is a lot to be said about the why Dionysos is not intoxicated chaos and loss of reason.

And a lot to be said about why Apollo isn't 'Apollonian' science and logic.

As Gods who rule over the hidden away mental hospitals and home care, Dionysos is in the first terror-ride of psychosis, until Apollo takes you down into the sepulchre of 'Section'. 

No name now, you are simply 'Service User'. 

Apollo places the pill upon your tongue.

A Holy sacrament to Reason.

And Dionysos banished!

Or so people would like to believe.

Apollo is a tricky god, a Lord of poisons, plague and decay. 

These are his gifts to you...

Lithium is toxic.

Risperidone fattens you like a sacrificial beast. 

You cannot run.

You must not scream...

My counsel?

Awareness is yours alone.

I've always believed, because I read too much Jung,  that gods are the closest we get to speaking a language of mind - the whole mind that is, not just the little bright button of us that translates the mass of impulse and information into words and pictures.

Nevertheless, knowing cannot protect the heart or mind from reality, only allow a faster synthesis from shock, dismay and pain, back into functional coherence.

Pain shatters the self.

I am constantly aware of the rock tumbler grinding the shards of glass from the day Josh smashed the window (first time taken by police). Hearing it is a constant reminded of all the feelings from that day and what came after.

Though there was no death, I feel like my husband is dead. I have been bereaved.

The constant grinding is my prayer to process - 'a prayer to rock that fronts the skies'.

"There is no death that is not deeply felt, no pain that does not bite through flesh and bone. All hurt is like the endless surge of seas, the wear and tear of tumbling that leaves no wealt but only sand instead of granite ease

Yet stone endures, endures, against the surge: it comes to sand, and still the world is stone. While shores are gnawed, new mountains elsewhere rise. And so the seas' lament is not a dirge: it is a prayer for rock that fronts the skies.

The calm of rock that always meets the seas, a harmony that is both song and groan. This music is the earth's reply to pain, the slow release that lift's us from our knees. By this, harsh death becomes both loss and gain"

Stephen R. Donaldson - Against All Things Ending: The Last Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.