Tuesday, November 10, 2015
I missed October and will likely miss December, and today's post is only in existence as an explanation.
Recently a couple of lovely people suggested that my writing was improving. I am very touched by your comments... and think you might be right. Unfortunately the reason is not so positive. It basically boils down to mild depression.
I have come to recognise a very specific brand of melancholy perfectly suited to word-craft. It was quite a sensation to find the creative "zone", and I hope I will be able to safely access it again for the purpose of working in my strongest art form. But for now, I don't want to go there.
It turns out I've had a case of post-natal depression. I'm sure I'll tell you all about it sometime, but at this stage what I'm doing is recovering, and simply enjoying feeling joy again! My moods are still on a bit of a roller-coaster (even more than usual... or at least different to the moods I've previously known and loved); the happy-pills are AMAZING, and some therapy was useful, but I've yet to find completely solid ground again. And until I do I'm going to reside in happiness.
Happiness is very boring to read about, but rather lovely to live in. I've been indulging in my other beloved, yet all but forsaken art form, of music. I finally found a choir at the right level with the right repertoire; singing in a group making beautiful sounds is so uplifting, very clearly good for body, mind and soul. Being told I have a deep, dark, "chocolatey" contralto voice during audition was rather nice too.
And since receiving my rather necessary diagnosis and treatment, I am finding great happiness being with my little family. I'm finally enjoying our first house, and playing in it with my favourite people. I find myself overflowing with warmth and joy and love. Having two young children is, of course, still hard work, full of frustrations and cause for tears... and anger. But I love this little team; my son, my daughter, and my husband are three very splendid chaps.