Forward march

I am a depressive person. Ask anyone who knows me well, and they will, for the most part, agree with this assessment. Take, for instance, the times when I've had one glass of wine too many. Now when your inhibitions are lowered, your true feelings surface--if you're a happy person, you're a happy drunk, and if you're not. . . well, then tipsiness is a whole different experience. In my case, as my blood alcohol level rises, I start to ruminate on the unfair and pathetic nature of life--my life in particular--and the next thing you know, the tears, they're a-flowin'. Which just goes to show--I am a depressive person.

But I'm liking this whole new beginnings deal. New place, new life, new language, relatively new job, very few people I know. . . and I'm starting to think that I can make a go of this being happy thing too--for once. Like today. I learned something that would normally have sent me crawling off into the "depths of despair"*. Ok, I'm being a little dramatic. But it would definitely have put a damper on my mood, and at least a few tears would have been shed. But today, as I stepped on the brink of wallowing, I caught myself, sharply pulled myself out, and continued cheerily on, carefully sidestepping the angst and self-pity. For a moment, I felt the familiar pang at the thought of going back after work to my apartment and being alone with my thoughts. But I stopped myself. I've a fabulous apartment (that I've to move out of VERY soon), a nice relaxing evening, a weekend of house-hunting ahead, and a nice church to go to. And I shook off the fear and admonished myself. . . this too shall pass.

*Anne of Green Gables -- fabulous book, highly recommend it, for kids and grown-ups alike!

Update: my friend Yamu posted this in response to this entry on another site, and I thought it was beautiful. . .and true, and wanted to share it.

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost…I am hopeless
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in…it’s a habit.
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.

(from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying)