Depression follows you around, sneaks up on you, but you notice the warning signs, the ones which in my case say ‘SWAMP AHEAD’, the path gets boggy etc.etc.
Lately though, I’ve been running around on the sunny, dry ground, having calm conversations about things I think are decided in my head and then write poetry late into the night whilst sobbing. Now, I used to know myself fairly well but then lately I’ve been freaking out over scenes in plays and films that I saw ages ago and everything is fine up here in the nice pleasant light, I’m doing a job I like, writing and have most things on an upwards keel. All I need to do is get rid of some old baggage from the past and… I end up crying.
This isn’t depression. And everytime I get up close to this one there are big Keep Out signs, there have never been Keep Out signs in my head. Big keep out signs that are telling me to stop being so melodramatic and stop making things up. Well if I’m making this up then please would somebody explain the very random tears?
Wake up, get a name,
Wake up, we want you back again,
You’re telling us there’s a price,
and we say – ‘What the hell.’
Sad to hear this flower.
This may turn the standard approach on its head, but maybe you might try putting the poetry on the back burner for a month, and see if that helps?
Otherwise, all I can offer is tea and pink wafer biscuits…and intense occult rites of exorcism and integration!
Wishing you well.
Whilst I’m at it I’ll cut my own hands off as well. After a month I’m sure I can have them surgically re-attached.
Charming!