Oh, the pressure of realizing that you are publishing you’re 500’th blog post. What can I say that is witty enough, and monumental enough, and enough enough?
I haven’t been posting, and I’ve blamed it on the fact that my next post was going to be THE 500’th post. Of my life.
In reality, I wasn’t posting because of March Moodiness.
This time, last year, I was frantically battling depression. A year before that, I hardly got out of bed, I was so depressed. And a year before that I was sliding into my first bout of depression, ever.
What it is about the end of February, beginning of March?
I always want to get in my car, and drive away, away from it all. To California, or to the beach, or to the beach in California. Or to the eastern part of Oregon, past all the desert and sagebrush, to the rugged desolate hills that always make me think of “Wuthering Heights” or “Jamaica Inn”
I never do though. I think about gas money, and about how sleeping in my car might be dangerous. And then I just go to bed and escape from the world via sleep.
It’s funny, because except for a few days of summer blues, I haven’t struggled with depression in a year. I have been so on top of it this winter, finding beauty in everything, learning to play an instrument for the first time in my life, writing and breathing and making time for friends.
And then, it hit me.
I didn’t get depressed, but suddenly I had to work hard not to be depressed. Why such a struggle all of the sudden?
Spring is, to me, a metaphor of the slow climb out of depression. The winter lasts, and lasts, and then Spring comes for a few days before it rains again.
But Spring is coming.