Sometimes I wonder if there is a purpose to experiencing depression “old school style,” sleeping long hours, staying in bed, not talking, feeling dreary…

Bear with me here, while I attempt to make some sense out of this. So, I am someone who often catches myself with full-on depression thinking, but since I am medicated for my mood, I don’t “go there,” and instead carry on in a cheery (well, maybe that’s a stretch), productive fashion.

I doubt I’m the only one with this predicament. See, if I had my natural druthers, I’m pretty sure the current state of human affairs may land me in my bed for a few weeks.  I am genuinely worried about many things in our government, our ecology and my personal life too. But, instead I just “carry on,” and do what I can to change things, but don’t really have the fire in the belly or downright terror either. Modern chemistry is pretty fun and running me afoul all at once.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m better off, and so is my family, having me “on” and functional, but I’m not entirely myself either.  I’m me that’s evened out, leveled to smooth, concerning myself with my family, my phone screen, PTO activities and what’s for dinner. 

Maybe now is the time to be concerned with civilization, survival and cultural change?  Maybe now is time for shocking art and calls to arms?  Maybe if we weren’t collectively medicated to “feel better,” the ‘winning’ capitalists and corporations would experience what the would be more natural:  less spending, less production, less success. Fewer resources for the few, deeper discontent of the many, and veneers of “okay” blown off the hinges.  Maybe then leaders would focus on “raising up” the masses, not shutting them up, or appeasing them for a few with inexpensive bobbles and promises.

Meh. click publish. carry on.