Perhaps I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed

Wrong Side of the Bed

Wrong Side of the Bed

Is this depression, anxiety, or just a shitty day? The constant sense of dread attached to me like a heavy shadow. When I feel this way the shadow is most often falling behind me, cast from the bright light of whatever is really bothering. Every so often I am able to get the light behind me and I can see the shadow, but invariably a cloud or something else gets in the way, diffusing the light, allowing the shadow to disappear, and providing me a moment to simply observe my surroundings.

Those moments are priceless to me. Soft diffused light. No heavily weighted shadows. Just me and my surroundings.

Thing is, I’ve been having more and more of the diffused light kind of days lately, so when I woke up today, blinded by something, and what I really don’t know, the drag of the heavy shadow felt even more acute. After years of this back and forth between days with distinct shadows, and days with none at all, I finally figured out what for me is the best way to lose the shadows; do something, anything.

Dwelling on what might be the blinding light causing my shadows does nothing for me, and it’s only on the quiet days, with no drama, that I have those epiphanies where I understand from where the energy for that light had come. So today my something, my anything is sitting at a coffee shop and writing.

I’ve brought my child to the doctor for an annual check-up, walked the dog twice, cleaned-up the kitchen, and none of that helped lift my spirits. As soon as I made the decision to leave the house, to leave the environment in which I find myself day-after-day, I felt as if I was doing something, which is odd because I had been busy all day.

After sitting down at this coffee shop, opening my laptop, typing the first paragraph and taking the first sips of coffee, my mind is flitting between writing and filtering the noises around me: the woman on the business call, the women talking about the lives of their adult children, a conversation of which takes a detour to discuss the green card status of one of the women, the background music coming from the shop’s speakers.

Whatever the mechanism, whatever the trigger, I’m thankful to be detaching myself from the shadows.

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