This is not a new struggle for me; it's one I've been engaged in since high school. Fortunately, my particular brain chemistry responds well to pharmaceutical intervention and most of the time, I like to think I am participating in life in a pretty stable and positive way. But every so often, my brain reminds me that the chemicals are out of whack, and there isn't much to do but wait till the clouds pass. Depression is a strange thing - when you are in the middle of it, you are certain you will never feel any better, and you can't remember what it feels like to feel better, and when it passes (if you are one of the lucky people for whom it passes), you can't remember how horrible it felt when you were in it.
I am blessed to have a few close friends who provide distraction and support when it's needed. My friend Heather suggested that we take advantage of the glorious weather this weekend by having a picnic in one of the city's many parks.
We found a lovely spot with some sun and shade in Springbank park along the bank of the river.
We packed one of my grandmother's old quilts and a small feast that included a bottle of white wine, and although I shouldn't probably be drinking alcohol right now (it is a depressant), we took secret delight in imbibing in a public park (please don't report us).
We also brought reading material - for me, a book by Erik Larson that I found at a thrift store. I had enjoyed his previous book, The Devil in the White City, so thought I'd try another. After all, who can resist a "ripping yarn of murder and invention"?
*I'm two thirds of the way through, and sad to say, not finding it very "ripping", although I am learning a lot about Marconi, and the invention of the wireless telegraph.
It was warm enough to get out my favourite pair of fancy summer pants, which happen to go quite nicely with my purple plaid converse.
There are moments when you are lying on your back in the grass, staring up at the sky in silence broken only by bird song, that it seems all is right with the world.
For the first hour or so that we were there, this solitary goose stood on a rock in the middle of the river, honking plaintively. We felt rather sorry for him, as it seemed he had not found a mate when all around him pairs of geese were shepherding groups of goslings around the park.
I'd like to send a special thank you to the ladies of my St. Louis Fan Club (which I did not know existed), who describe themselves as "a bunch of little old ladies who are rubbish with computers". They asked their "younger friend, Miss K" send me an email on their behalf telling me how much they enjoy my blog and that they hoped I was feeling better soon. I was moved to tears by their sweet and thoughtful message, and felt very privileged that this group of women who absolutely LOVE Vix (and who doesn't), now include my blog in their list of favourites.