I get depressed. Often.
My guilt then forces me to show happiness over-emphasised. Mostly. Falsely.
I just recently realised that being depressed is not an ailment of any sorts and there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me when I feel this way.
I realised my spirit is trying to tell me wonderful things and I need to be quiet and a little withdrawn for a while to listen. To hush my head with all the rules swirling around.
When I get depressed, it is a time for reflection and a time to think of all things that gives joy to my heart.
Then to go do them.
Chasing those thoughts like you would butterflies. Even if it means you don’t catch any. What fun it is to run around in pure joy.
I have the tendency to start great things but fall short in completing them. That’s ok. I give myself permission to at least start them.
I recently learnt about the poet Mary Oliver. Love.
She says how I feel so beautifully. What indeed will we do with our precious life?
“Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life?” From "The summer day"; New and Selected Poems 1992