Funny, isn't it.
You can wake up feeling perhaps mildly optimistic, or very optimistic, or miserable, or full of anger, then throughout the course of a day depending on conversations, emails, the weather, a new scratch on the car, a dog poo in the wrong place; someone giving you an unexpected present, a packet of tea discovered at the back of a cupboard when you thought you had run out, an incredible cloud, a good lunch, new socks, etc, etc and everything changes for better or worse, until the next boring/fun/extraordinary/necessary/ life-changing or one step closer to death, thing that happens to alter your mood during this particular twenty-four hours.
Or maybe some people don't experience this - are always, or mostly always on a course of, 'yep, okay-ness' or everything being constantly a uniform grey, or extreme positiveness always. . . how exhausting.
Real depression is crippling, and I'm lucky to only experience perhaps a day a month where I feel 'Well, shit . . ." and also lucky in the knowledge that tomorrow I'll feel 'normal', whatever my normal-ness is - mostly optimistic in a muddling along sort of a way.
So, today was a patchwork of emotions with a dip in the early afternoon heading towards 'Well, shit . . . but saved by the kind and genuinely helpful words of a good friend.
The mouldy mood had stemmed from feeling that I might be wasting my time trying to get published (something that is moving forward, glacially). I was preparing for full sky-dive into Well, shit . . ." when an email arrived from the friend who had finished the book in question (and has helped me a great deal with editing over a couple of years). Constructive praise ending in 'congratulations' and from someone I know would always tell me if something needed fixing, blew the dismal mood away. I sauntered into the garden with shears and attacked bushes that had needed serious trimming for weeks, gazed up at clouds and generally felt that the world, at least within my own personal compound, was and is a good place.
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