Ballooning

I feel like an alarmist when I post such things in the public eye, but then I remember it's my portal that readers choose to partake in, not some platform upon which I assume responsibility to said readers.

that doesn't mean I don't love you.

:)

by "such things," I mean that I don't know where it came from and I can't explain its intermittence, but I believe I am fighting a depression and that I will do so in some degree for the rest of my life.

I've come across numerous postings lately, on tumblr, postsecret, assorted blogs, etc., where people relay their transition from thinking people who say they battle depression are dramatic, stagnant hypochondriacs to recognizing that they are overcome with a struggle they would rid themselves of as soon as shown how to. I tried never to subscribe to the first evaluation, but the second stands in new light.

Perhaps it's not a depression. I don't even really know what that means. In taking inventory of the trends this blog has taken, you know as well as I do that my grasp on my psyche is some balance of intricate and ignorant. I suppose I am just sad sometimes... some deep, overwhelming, weighty, isolating, paralyzing, exhausting form of sad. Maybe I'll grow out of it.

I wonder if I'll be waiting to grow out of it thirty years from now.

Knowing and living in the joy of the Lord does not translate to happiness. That's okay.

Sometimes I imagine that each of my woes is tied to a balloon or a bird that floats and flies away. I would like to take fewer things seriously and to be more fun and not to have a reason to express these feelings at all. But in my consideration that no time is wasted, I am left to gather that nothing that requires it is wasted, either. Whatever fills your life has filled your life. One of those philosophical mumbo jumbos that sounds overly simple but could spin your head like a carousel if you let it.

I'm just me, though, and this is part of it. I don't smile as often as people would like me to, and I laugh at myself more often than people understand. I don't intend to separate myself from humanity; while it's true that I rarely come across people I feel can process some of my wavelengths, I assume that most people feel the same way about themselves. I am no more than one more creation, living under and within the human condition, yelling a whisper about things everyone already knows. And at the same time, there has never been another with the same set of genes, experiences, and thoughts.

It's whatever.

Thanks for reading. I want to tell you that secretly, I'm pretty fun. That I know a few good jokes, and that I'm a good candidate for listening to you talk about anything that excites you. But then I'd be defending myself, and I don't want to do that here.

ttfn, little chickadees. and something dramatic and inspiring, like

Godspeed.