I don’t usually talk much about my little black clouds because I find they pass more quickly when I don’t dwell on them. But, Geez Louise! I can’t even tell you how many days I’ve been struggling to get out of bed now. Doing silly things like getting up early to walk the dog and then going back to “nap” on the couch until I’m forced to get up by my children. My days have been so caught up in looking forward to stuff… then waiting for that stuff to happen.
This morning I was having this dream that I had a little church under a bridge. I married people there; I was the one who performed the ceremonies. It was very strange. There were concrete pews that lined the slope beneath the bridge much like you would imagine the seats in a Roman coliseum. Everything was painted turquoise. People of all nationalities and religious orientations were waiting for me to perform their ceremonies. It was kind of a Vegas-type drive-up chapel for Kansans… I guess.
Anyway, when I finally pulled myself from the dream I was thinking, “What AM I giving to the world anyway?” And for a few fuzzy minutes pre-dawn, I seriously thought about getting one of those certificates online and becoming a minister of sorts. Bizarre… the thoughts that wander through our heads before we are truly conscious of what we are thinking.
You know, I really believe that little black clouds are just a part of a healthy, well-rounded life. I tell myself to just go with the flow and know that it’s only temporary. I know the bright spots are still out there. I see them if I only choose to look. But for a little while longer, my cloud will follow me as if it is an umbrella I carry. I’ll grumble at it. I might write it a few nasty notes or spray it with my be-happy graffiti. Eventually I’ll cast it aside and the sun will shine on me again.
Until then, just remember that just because I might be frowning, it doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself.
3 comments:
Now that it is past, I'm am totally
convinced the black cloud is all
Aunt Flo's fault, entirely.
Guess Little black cloud will follow
you another 10 years at the least.
I love your visual of spraying the black cloud with happy-graffiti. I'm going to use that next time I get a blackcloud. I might even make someting real doing a painting or collage or something to "cover" up the black cloud. Maybe you could sing a song (Black Cloud, Black cloud go away! Come again some other day! - and stick your tongue out at it!)
The black cloud occasionally blots out the sunshine in my life, as well. The hard part is persuading the world that nothing is really wrong, and that the real me will be back just as soon as possible.
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