I’m a firm believer that depression can be given tentacles to overrule it’s occupant. With life being more filled with lemons and less with lemonade it is however so easy to give into the slow demise that depression promises.
With a generous helping of bad luck and unsuccessful ventures I’m on the brink of taking a deep plunge into the deep pits of despair. Generally we all do feel the slow growth of depression at times and I usually set aside time to sulk and feel sorry for myself and then get on with it.
Last night I could hardly sleep and milled through thoughts trying to establish- with great failure- why it seems that bad luck seems to have a way to stick to me like warm chewing gum on a shoe.
I try to be a good person and friend, but misfortune seems to be one step ahead in a very exhausting race, which I’m loosing. On days like this when I’m feeling marsian blue and close to having an outburst of sobs it is extra hard to keep up appearances.
But at last the skies have gone dark and as the night air chills and the kids are finally in bed, precious time has arrived where I can sob away, snot and all pitying myself to every degree.
If only I could succeed as well as I fail. Just a little speck of luck or good fortune would be so nice for a change.
So depressingly depressed I go off to bed, reminding myself that tomorrow is another day with no time for self pitying or despair.
And however hard it might be I’ll try to squeeze those lemons for drops of lemonade.