I found this amazing book: Van Gogh Blues: The Creative Person's Path Through Depression by Eric Maisel. Finally someone understands my depression. And I understand my depression. That's breakthrough enough but there's more yet to come. I'm only through four chapters and I already feel one thousand percent better. (oops, might have to put Finding Jane Doe back in moth balls, but oh, well...)

When I was involved with Landmark Education, we learned that life is meaningless in itself, but that we give life all the meaning it has for us.

After Landmark, I was very in touch with my anger and couldn't seem to let it go. For all my life, I pretended I wasn't angry. It wasn't nice to be angry. I distracted myself from my anger just as I have been distracting myself from my depression recently. I stuffed my anger inward and was overly nice; always looking for the good in others, and justifying everyone's behavior no matter how mean, cruel, neglectful or abusive they were toward me. My brother brought this home to me just a few days ago when he asked why it all still mattered to me when it obviously didn't matter to others. Because it did matter to me regardless of whether it mattered to others. But the conversation depressed me nonetheless.

So the pendulum swung from intense anger through moments of manic to sever depression. Not healthy. I've studied hundreds of self help book and though they would help momentarily, I never seemed to get the black monsters off my back.

I realize I may be going through yet another manic phase but this time feels different. With Van Gogh Blues, I've realized that I have to make my life matter. I have to give my own life meaning. I've chosen not to live a traditional life of marriage, 2.5 children, house with the white picket fence, one dog and a cat. And though I may end up a cat lady in my isolated old age, I still have to make my life have some meaning.

I've chosen a creative life. I've chosen a life of giving.

But recently the well has been dry. And I've probably seemed expectant, demanding, selfish, self-centered and unreasonable hard to live with. I've just been trying to find answers to questions I didn't even know I was asking.

Thinking about it, I've probably been asking those questions all my life. (hence, I've been difficult for most of my life. My apologizes all around.)

I'm different. Not better than,... or worse than, anyone else. Just different. I knew I'd never be happy with a normal life of marriage and kids but thought that that was what I was suppose to want. I'm not happy with a traditional job. Doing the same thing day after day drives me mad. I want to live a creative life. Not many people understand this desire, this longing to have my life be full of meaning, to have a life that matters. Maisel says most people go through this stage as "midlife crisis." My midlife crisis hit at age 25 and never left.

The promises this book offers have me anxious to read more, to make my life, my work and my time matter.

So that being said, here is another haiku I wrote recently. Enjoy.

shopping carts shuffle,
dance across the parking lot
wicked weather comes