I’ve felt for a long time like my imagination and creativity had fizzled out. Creating and dreaming takes up energy and skills that are absent when in the midst of Depression. Sure, every now and then I’d go on a new hobby kick or a craft project…then it would fall by the wayside.
What I’m learning now is that by writing my own nonfiction, ideas are starting to flow again in ways that they haven’t in what feels like forever. I’m not saying that the ideas are all great, but just that the ideas are there.
Looking back, I think that all the time I’ve felt like my imagination had deserted me, really, it was still there, but my mind was using it only for negative, fearful things, imagining the worst, imagining negative outcomes, existentially bummed-out like Gargamel and Murky Dismal and Eeyore.
I’m not saying that my Depression is cured and gone away, because it isn’t. But in choosing to live a better story, to live a more meaningful, more engaged life, the Depression lives in a quieter head space and when it gets louder, I’m better able to manage it. I’m able to experience my Depression with dynamics now; it isn’t just a marching band.
I’ve always been pretty decent with ideas for work or ideas for other people, but it feels pretty good to have ideas for me again. No need to wait for imagination to revive or return anymore; now I know I never lost it. I hope I can hold the consciousness of that and the momentum to keep choosing, keep writing, keep acting, and keep the volume turned down on my inner cartoon sourpuss. 🙂