A friend of mine recently described his depression as an "ebb and flow"; most of the time we flow through life just fine until we are drawn beneath the swirling waters by a sudden undertow. Winston Churchill was noted for labeling his depression as a "black dog" and that analogy is fitting as well; most of the time it rests quietly on it's leash, but when awakened will sit heavily on your chest, growling softly in your face.
For me, depression is a person. It is someone who draws you in with wit and charm and affection and just when you let your guard down and feel safe, it turns on you. It deserts you, leaving you feeling lost and alone, and returns at sporadic intervals, never with any consistency so you are constantly off-balance. It comes back just to whisper softly in your ear: "You are ugly. . .you are worthless. . .you are pathetic. . .no one will ever love you. . ." And when it does, I am hard-pressed to find any evidence to prove it wrong.
So, I'm sorry I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain; that being, I blog and you read. . .if you are still reading. . .I hope you are. . .if not, you aren't reading this right now anyway so I suppose the point is moot. . .I will be back. I do have some outings planned in the not-so-distant future that I am sure will lend themselves to some healthy, blog-worthy shenanigans. In the meantime, please be well. Take care of yourselves. And to those of you suffering from similar afflictions and maladies, please reach out. I am sending you all the biggest of hugs as I would give anything in the world to be on the receiving end of one right now.
It's going to be OK.