I am probably really inviting disaster with this post.....
I was busily moping about under our gray skies, a few minutes ago, when I thought about the amount of time I have spent being depressed verses actual tragedies I have experienced. I have had nothing catastrophic enough in my life to, I feel, to warrant the amount of sadness I have had. I think about the typhoon in Myanmar or, the people on the bridge in New Orleans. I think of my friend who is in mourning of her fathers recent death. These people deserve to feel hopeless, sad, in the pit of suffering.
It boggles my mind that I even had depression as a teen. OK, maybe my sadness was warranted I was, hopelessly shy, a magnet for bullies and even my attempts at being cool, and above the popular kids did not serve to lessen my pain. Now, I am truly above such things...yes?
To compound the sadness, I had a bit of guilt thrown in. I was not supposed to be sad. I was born into the one true Church.... I must have done something wrong. I realize that this is simplistic thinking but the message I remember getting was that, the truth made you happy.
When I was a kid, coming home from a bad day of school, I would put a Bauhaus tape into my stereo and listen to it loud. Loud dark music does not pull me out of a lull anymore. Neither does wishing something really awful would happen so, I could feel better about sadness.