Why the sun

This blog is wildly, relentlessly positive: it means to be.

It won't let in dark and it won't let in sad and if now and then I feel hollow, the sorrow is flipped upside down with flowers and a photo of a child in a tree.

There's a reason, you see.

A liftetime ago, a year ago and yesterday, I suffered from depression. I had the Real Deal, the kind where you have to see doctors, get pills, talk to counsellors, and remind yourself to keep alive. I probably had it from adolescence, this illness, but it came and swallowed me after I had my son ten years ago. I could not sleep for worry; I could barely think sideways let alone straight. I had to scrabble my way out of the darkest hole—time and time again I thought it might claim me.

It took years to find my way out.

Each year is easier, smoother. And since I started homeschooling I feel joy so often because I am finally following my heart. I am with loving, laughing children every day and I get to find my true Mother self. I am lucky. I am blessed.

But I don't get complacent. Sometimes I think I'm only ever just one step out, trying not to look back.

People are amazed to hear I have had depression. That sometimes I still have tough days or weeks. They say, But you're so happy! So relaxed, so calm. It is curious, I know. I don't get it sometimes, either.

I absolutely couldn't understand it when I first faced it, ten years ago. I couldn't figure out how I could have so much, so many gifts—a loving husband, beautiful child, my health, a roof over my head—and still be swallowed by sadness. It took me a long time to understand, that this is how an illness works. It comes and tries to claim you. All you can do, is gather what you can to fight it.

So.

I gather sunshine. I gather joy.

I gather photographs and laughter.

I gather my children about me.

I gather my dreams and the things that are truest.

I gather good, strong words.

I gather lovely friends, loving family.

I gather care.

I gather bushwalks, the sweeping ocean, great gobs of beauty.

I gather small, sweet moments.

I gather kindness. Respect. Patience.

I gather love.

Sad comes, you can't always avoid it. I let it in just enough so it won't bang the door down later. But I don't let it stay. I won't give it room to take hold.

Sometimes sad wants to stick—mess with me, my children. I grit my teeth and I shove it out.

And I go back to gathering joy.