Creative Mournings

Coming to grips with life so far

This October, I will turn 40 years old. 4 decades.

I have a beautiful, smart, and loving wife. I have three amazing girls. I have a beautiful (messy) home, a job, and family that cares about me.

And I am deeply depressed.

You may have noticed that my last post was two months ago. If you didn’t notice, it’s okay: I did. I’ve been staring at a drawer full of draft posts of different things to write. Some have paragraphs of thoughts, some are just titles. But they’re all just sitting there tormenting me.

I haven’t been able to pull together the sum of energy, creativity, and/or time to make a dent into any of these projects.

And to top that off, I have a blessed life and I feel ashamed to be depressed at all. What is so hard about my life that I should feel so helpless? Every day, I am confronted in my work with the lives of others who suffer or face obstacles I have never had to think about. How dare I be depressed.

Yet, here I am.

I feel a sense of creative mourning, that my spent energy doesn’t reflect the creative spirit that fuels me. Like a space explorer, my craft has run out of fuel in the depths of space in a place I do not recognize. Lost in space without the means to return, hoping for a rescue mission.

But it’s not hopeless. I have all the blessings I talked about before. Despite my mournings, I have much to find joy in.

Adrift, yet hopeful.

Pressed, but not crushed.

Depressed, but not abandoned.

---

I have a lot of things simmering in the pot; some of which are kindling for my spirit. They will just take more time.

Just wait.
See what is in front of you.
Watch for signs.
Flow with the river.
Meet me where I wait.
Things will come in time.
This is the way.