Isn’t it Funny

Sunrise from my deck, in Ashland, Oregon.

It’s funny how when things are going relatively well in my life, I feel less inspired to write. 

Another writer on WordPress commented in one blog, that he didn’t know what he’d do without his depression. It has shaped him, and served as fertilizer for his writing.

I would not hold onto my depression, and my anxiety, were I given the opportunity to rid myself of it. At the same time, I understand why this fellow wrote what he did on the subject.

Writers, artists, and creative types all share something in common. Depression tends to be present in our lives, to one degree or another.

An unusual level of sensitivity is also common in we creative folk. Which often leads to insights that are not frequently shared by the remainder of humanity. This can make depression difficult to avoid, and make it’s sufferers indescribably lonely.

People with severe depression and generalized anxiety disorder are seen as misfits in todays world. We are labeled as mentally ill. We are put into mental institutions, and given medications, to make us more, ‘normal’.

I, myself, have greatly benefitted from therapy. And from Psych medications. So, I’m not claiming that living with these issues is ideal, or that they cannot be helped.

What I object to, is the idea that people with mental illness are somehow weaker than individuals without apparent mental health issues. 

I beg to differ. I believe we are stronger. We cope with much more internally, and still we keep going. Sometimes, just getting out of bed, takes herculean effort. We are carrying weights upon our shoulders that cannot be seen by others. And we are moving forward, and through our daily lives with these burdens.

It takes tremendous persistence, patience, and will-power, to function as a seer, in a world full of people that cannot see.

I love this quote, which is attributed to Nietzsche,

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”


  1. We are strong. We are fighting for our lives on a daily, nay hourly, basis. My depression wants me dead, my addiction wants me high and miserable, my anxiety wants me to have a stroke or something…

    We are not weak.

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