Melancholy

It came without warning, though like the seasons, a week of summer had to be balanced by another week of winter. Was it fatigue? Was it loneliness? Or was it both? I could keep my mind off it during the day, clicking between tabs, choosing between entertainments, alternating between colleagues' requests. However, what had begun on a quiet Sunday, laid dormant, waiting for me to finish my tasks so it could drag me down again, into an uninterrupted melancholia.

Longings for home, family, friends, anything that was familiar and comforting replayed in my mind. Old and once dismissed hurts came back to sting. Though worst were the questions, why I a feeling this way? What happened to drag me down for the optimism of the previous week? What was making me sad?

I turn to literature, spirituality and writing. Rumi verses placate me and gives me hope.

This human being is a guest house

every morning a new arrival

A joy, a depression, a meanness

some momentary awareness

comes an unexpected visitor

.....

Be grateful for whatever comes

Because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond

But it does not last long. I lie in my bed. The blanket that once provide me with all the warmth feels threadbare against my skin. I roll around sleepless, restless and dread waking up the next day. Then that realisation hits me, that it was not me, it was him, that boy within, who was hurt, tired and needing comfort. I turn to him and with all the tenderness and understanding I can muster, I tell him, 

"Its ok". 

And that makes all the difference.