Rebellion against the black dog.

I am having a ‘down’ day. I tried to fight it, by going out and shopping and socializing, by listening to upbeat music, by talking on the phone with my mother, but it is just one of those days when my spirit feels like it is made of grey clay or lumps of lead. Once upon a time, I would not write on these days. Once, I would fall into the black dog’s pit and not know how to climb out.

This has changed. Now I rage against a grey day by writing with the brightest colours I can manage. None of these words may be worth keeping in the long run. But, thanks to these silly old words, already I can find a ladder back up into the sunlight.


I’m turning my grim into a Chihuahua, one day at a time.

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