“No one blames her.”
“That never matters,” said Alec. “Not when you blame yourself.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls
I often find myself, chastising my moods.
After having listened to great many hard led lives of the open souls in my support group, the thought churns in my head:
I am to be considered an ungrateful creature. For my life goes well and troubles stay away from me. Why then, I can’t get out of bed and ponder over death a great deal?
But depression is not reserved for the hardship endurers only. Physiological depression stems from a chemical imbalance, and it’s as real as anything you can’t touch but feel strongly. I must stop looking externally for the reasons and trying to fix them. As the solution lies inside, literally.
In hindsight, for me, when life goes well, depression’s veil can get thicker. During these fits, if the tiniest misfortunes occur, my capacity rings an alarm and my body goes into a panic.
All the while, there is no use into condemning my state, that’s of no use.
Resisting medication uptake, I did discover, and still am, that change in diet to support serotonin production does me an abundance of good.
So nowadays, I follow sunshine when we get it, eat more protein and fewer carbs, take my damn supplements, and refrain from justifying the curses cast upon my psyche.
Do you ever find yourself feeling guilty for being depressed, or just low?