The Gift of Melancholy

I often use mornings to sort myself into my day. It's always been slow going, because I'm not a morning person in any sense of the word. My brain, it's slow to turn on, and slow to power down, as well. I don't know how some people jump up, and run with the day never giving pause to check in gently with themselves to gauge how things are going. How their body feels in this new day, or plan on what they might do today. For me, this is an essential part of my routine. Maybe this is why I am not as productive as other people? I don't know. Seems quite plausible that my forever running commentary inside my dreamy head is part of what slows me down. I couldn't imagine just being on autopilot, and getting straight to tasks without thinking, and warming up to the task itself first.

Today I am feeling reflective. It's midmorning, and I'm thinking that my day is getting away from me, but then I can't pull myself away from my comfortable chair, and cozy afghan covering my lap. We got a new couch the day before yesterday. The old one is gone, and my living room is completely rearranged. I am now seated beside a window that I never could see out of much before. The autumn sun shines brightly through the windows on this side of the house, as opposed to the summer positioning, which none of my living room windows face. I'm sipping coffee in a quiet living room while I watch the bright yellow leaves flutter to the ground gently resting on the faded green grass. It's odd how a simple change in furniture can make a room feel almost new again. There's a part of me that resists these changes, even if they are much more comfortable, or better than the old way, because I process change in such a slow way. There's another part of me that really welcomes the different circumstances to refresh my outlook. Neither is right, and neither is dominate. They both just are different views that I have to the same situation.

There also this other feeling. The gentle tap, tap, tapping of autumn brings
with it the familiar feelings of melancholy. I think I  like melancholy. It seems almost like a pretty name I could have had, or maybe should have had. I find it a quietly comfortable sort of mood. It feels warm, inviting, and sleepy. Melancholy feels muted on the outside, but alive, and dancing on the inside. It's a mood that I can only share with myself, because it's a state of being that only I can know. Not that others never feel this way,. It's just that you can't share this feeling with another. It's a frame of mind for only one person, which leads to it's sister loneliness, and possibly it's cousin depression. I like melancholy on it's own, but it's family is not company I like to keep, yet they invite themselves along more than I'd like. Melancholy's brother nostalgia always visits with her. Together they can entertain me for hours.

Just as my furniture providing me with a different outlook from the same room, and of the same yard through a different window my perceptions can also do same thing. I'm reminded of this as I have found myself slipping into depressive moods more often lately than I'd like. I think it's time for me to rearrange some priorities in my life, and try to see things from a different perspective. A fresh perspective might provide some valuable insights, and ideas that I couldn't see from my old perspective. I used to think that I reinvented myself all the time. It was almost like the old me was somehow not part of the new me. I felt that I'd changed too much from who I was 10 years ago, or 20 years ago that people would not recognize me in a physical, and personality sense. Now I realize that it's not true. I am still me. It's just that my perspective has changed. I wonder if other people ever feel this way? Do they constantly look to shift perspective, and ideas about who they are, and who they want to be? Do you? I am forever the inner-philosopher. I grow, and shrink my ideas on how life works, and how I am faring. I think about my connections to others, and how the dynamics of who I am affects people I know. I problem solve, and gather insight from my environment almost constantly. I'm sensitive, but use that to gauge the world around me. Sometimes, maybe that is too much, and why depression, and anxiety creeps in. I don't know. I just know that it's part of how I operate. I probably think too much, but I'm okay with that.