Persephone, Queen of the Dead, and an explanation of the blog title "Pomegranates and Prozac"
Self-mythologization as therapy.
Note: This essay has been on hold, not ready to be released for months. Instead of feeding into my perfectionist mindset, I’m saying whatever and publishing this anyways. I think it is as finished as it will ever be. I just felt this explanation was overdue. Enjoy.
Depth psychologists posture that some myths choose us. They’re unshakable— tinting our perception of reality and lived experiences. Some stories inject a deeper meaning into the less romantic aspects of our lives, for better or for worse. They help us make sense of what may otherwise be deemed as morally arbitrary or par for the course. I’ve always been one to embrace the esoteric. Persephone, Queen of the Dead, Daughter of the Harvest, the bridge between the heavens and the underworld: a figure who has occupied my thoughts with a steadfastness since elementary school. If you’re unfamiliar with her story, I will summarize:
Persephone, daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the Harvest, is abducted by Hades, king of the underworld. While collecting flowers in a meadow, Persephone is captivated by a particular Narcissus. As she reaches for the flower, a vast crevice opens deep into the earth and Hades emerges on a chariot. He takes her back to the underworld with him. Demeter, devastated by the loss of her daughter, searches relentlessly, ceasing her divine duties, leaving fields barren and ruining the crops. Finally, she learns Persephone is in the underworld. Desperate for Persephone's return, Demeter confronts Hades and learns he has fed her seeds from a pomegranate (the fruit of the dead), binding her to the underworld.
Zeus demands a compromise be reached, as Demeter threatens to leave the Earth barren if her daughter cannot return from the underworld. Hades, begrudgingly, allows Persephone to spend part of the year on Earth, upon the condition that she must return to the underworld for one month for each pomegranate seed she consumed. The number of seeds, typically around six, symbolizes winter and fall, marking the natural world's decay as Demeter mourns her daughter's annual absence.
The Greeks used this myth to explain the changing of the seasons, long before astronomers and meteorologists would make sense of the way things worked on Earth. As a kid, I loved this myth because as far as I knew, Christianity offered no such explanation for the changing of the seasons. But even at a young age, I felt this story had much more to it. I felt deeply for Persephone.
In the original Hymn of Demeter, Persephone is a minor character, despite the myth centering around her abduction. The hymn fails to divulge any information regarding Persephone’s feelings. This is certainly purposeful– Greek mythologies offer complex characters open to many interpretations. I wanted to know how she felt. Was she scared? Did she feel trapped, free, reborn? Modern interpretations of the myth paint Persephone in many different lights. In some tellings, she is a resilient and confident woman who embraces her environment and role as Queen of the Underworld. She willingly eats the pomegranate seeds, knowing she will be bound to Hades for eternity. Other versions depict her as a tragic character struggling to find light in the kingdom of the dead.
As a kid living with separated parents, I felt for Persephone. I wasn’t abducted, but I wasn’t exactly involved in the decision that greatly impacted where and how I would live. I preferred one parent’s house as most children of divorce do, and when I wasn’t there, I felt like a visitor in a place I was supposed to call home. I made the most of it though, and I find my spirit of resilience and adaptability to be fair compensation for the struggles I had. Still, the myth evolves as I age. Against my own volition, I’ve visited symbolic places of darkness throughout my life. Like Persephone reaching for the flower, sometimes the best of intentions lead to unimaginable consequences.
It is worth taking a sidebar to examine the symbol of the Narcissus flower, as the Greeks had their own origin story for this particular plant. Narcissus was a hunter known for his beauty who was too conceited to give his love away. As punishment, the gods fated him to fall in love with his own reflection in a body of water. He was so taken with himself that he refused to leave the reflection, eventually dying by the water’s edge. He was reborn from the soil as a Narcissus flower, which we know today as a daffodil. We recognize Narcissus as the origin for the word narcissism.
The Greeks were very intentional about their story-telling. The use of a Narcissus flower for Persephone’s bait is deliberate. To me, it implies something selfish, a self-inflicted death of innocence.
Against my own volition, I’ve visited symbolic places of darkness throughout my life. Like Persephone reaching for the flower, sometimes the best of intentions lead to unimaginable consequences.
As I’ve discussed here a couple times, my mental health took a turn for the worst when I stopped taking my Prozac prescription in summer of 2023.
Was stopping the Prozac was my descent into the underworld? Or was taking the Prozac my version of eating the pomegranate seeds? Could it have been my plucking of the Narcissus flower? In some ways, my attempt to stop medicating was in vain– I had decided I was “fixed”, like the drugs had done their job and cured me. This was naive: SSRIs are really just symptom management. I wasn’t on a course of antibiotics or something. Nothing was being “cured”; my anxiety wasn’t being eradicated. It was still there, and it will always be there. When I stopped taking my meds, I was forced to deal with a lot of thoughts and compulsions that had previously been numbed by prescriptions. Those thoughts and compulsions were hell. I’m so thankful a drug exists that can stop them from taking over my life.
We are all artists constantly narrating our life’s stories. I’d like to think of this blog as an extension of that narration. Our dark side will not always prevail; however, it will always exist. I can experience joy because I have experienced a deep depression, like a twisted yin and yang. So, yes. I find myself drawn to Persephone because we have both been through hell and back. I know I’m not free from my anxiety forever. To think as much will only set me up for failure. But I’m ready for it. I’ve made it through, and I will make it through again. The seasons of life are always churning away. And like Persephone, I will wear the crown and dance with the devil when my time comes.