Absence

I have been absent for a time whilst I wallowed in a strange half world of what I perceived to be near emotional "normality".  I have floated in a space of disinterested polarity, filling my time and re-directing my anger.

Instead of weeping, I have been painting.  Rather than gorging and vomiting, I have been creosoting.  I have been organising my garden, removing clutter.  Getting organised.

I suppositioned that I can do nothing about the eponymous depression that looms over me; it is something that will always be there to some degree or another.  I can medicate it, I can yoga it, I can nutrition it, but the basic chemical inbalance within me will always be there. 

Sometimes that inbalance will be bearable, other times it will be crippling.  On the days that it is crippling, I will paint a wall.  On the days it is bearable, I will worry for when it returns to destroy me.

I shall feel no less mentalist, but the house will look pretty spiffing.

In the meantime, my thoughts of deleting this blog have just been blasted out of the water. Shit's happening, and I need to talk about it.  I can't do it in person, because it makes me feel too awkward, because I like to be private about some things, but I've just been told by someone that it helped them to read what I write, so fuck it - I'm in.

Ready?