Has this ever happened to you?

I’m sitting here on a quiet Saturday afternoon, puttering around (after putting away a pedestrian Potter publication) and it hits me. Wave after wave of the blackest, most overwhelming despair wells up from out of the inky depths of what passes for my soul. There’s no real reason for it, other than perhaps hunger and fatigue and a bit of loneliness… but not enough of either or all to warrant such a horrendous outpouring of inner turmoil and self-loathing.

Wow.

A couple handsful of oyster crackers (the last thereof, sadly) and an hour’s nap was enough to bring me back to something resembling sanity, or at least normalcy. Yes, I’m feeling much better now.

Here’s what I think: I think I’m starting to get better, starting to really look forward to the future (even if the good parts are too damned far away yet!) and therefore starting to loosen my ironclad grip on the pain I’ve been burying inside all my life.

This is a good thing, right?

Yeah, except when the pain rises up and demands its share of my time. Talk about “double-plus ungood,” baby. Mood swings? How about mood merry-go-rounds? Mood slides? Mood see-saws? I’ve got ’em all.

Unfortunately I managed to fire off a really horrid piece of writing during the depths of today’s episode, and I’d just like to let those few who saw it know that I’m really perfectly okay, if a bit rattled. I could use a hug, but that’s about all I need right now.

That, and a decent meal. Yes indeed. Hunger is not our friend. But that’s a rant for another day, or another venue.