Yesterday, I published a post called, When sadness sets in. Originally I was writing it as the third and final installment of my love yourself series, but halfway though it wasn’t going anything like I had planned, and then out of nowhere I got hit with a wave of sadness and extreme depression, and, well, you know the rest.
Depression swings aren’t completely uncommon for me. Neither are elation swings. During the vast majority of life, I’m somewhere fat and happy and healthy in the middle. But every now and then, I’m not.
Sometimes I write horribly depressing and crappy stuff when I get like that. I usually toss those ones aside and go watch a movie that’ll make me happy instead. Or I go pout alone in a dark corner somewhere.
Sometimes I write posts that I never could have written had I not been brought to such an ugly place. Like The Thousand Roads through Hell, which was a pep talk I wrote to myself. It was something I desperately needed at the moment.
And conversely, when I’m going through the elation swings, I sometimes write really fluffy and fruity stuff that usually gets tossed aside because it’s overly cheesy and lame.
But sometimes during those times, I write posts that I never could have written had I not been brought to such a wonderful place. Like my Noah post.
And while I can appreciate the many theories that were presented since last night for what was causing me to go through what I was going through, I can tell you right now exactly what causes the chemical imbalance within me. I suffer from dangerously low cholesterol. Not thyroid imbalance. Not bipolar disorder. Low cholesterol. Never heard of that problem? It’s because dangerously low cholesterol is rare. It’s considered dangerous because it causes these very occasional but often drastic swings in mood that’ll hit ya like a ton of bricks and out of freaking nowhere. And since I don’t care much for hamburgers and fries, my cholesterol remains low.
In all honesty, I should probably be on anti-depressants. They’d save me from the brunt of these mood swings.
But I kind of love the swings. I love the ups. And I love the downs.
Because it’s during those swings that I am brought to ponder some of the greatest dynamics of life. And, even more importantly, it’s in the aftermath of those swings that I am brought to really understand where my mind went while I was bouncing between my emotions, and why.
It’s during the aftermath that real clarity often hits me. And it is those moments of clarity that brought you posts like The Disease Called Perfection.
On Sunday night there will be a new post. The title is, “The Nine Words that Just Might Fix the World.”
It was a post born in the aftermath of this most recent sadness.
It was a post I wrote completely by accident, in all honesty. I sat down to write a follow-up to I’m Christian, unless you’re gay. What came out was something completely different yet far more important than what I originally intended.
You see, I sat down and tried to write it the day after the sadness took over the post you read last night (which I had written a few days before publishing it). And that sadness, while gone for the moment, was still very fresh in my mind.
And it got me to thinking about some things that we all do to ourselves and to others. Things I’ve never thought of before. Things I’ve never heard before.
So, because of that, there will be no Buddha post today. And I’ll try, but there may not be a Beautiful You post tomorrow. Because on Sunday night I am posting something really important, and there is a lot of editing left to do.
But I really like where this one took me.
I believe it will change the very way we all look at other people.
I believe it will change the very way we all look at ourselves.
That’s my hope, anyway.
So please join me then.
And thank you for all of you who said such kind things to buoy me up after yesterday’s post. I never understood why so many single people had a hard time during the holidays. I get it now.
I definitely get it now.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
Oh, and a quick defensive note because I’m just in a defensive mood right now. I got a few loving emails and comments telling me exactly why I lost this girl I was dating and how I really should go get professional help if I am ever going to have a good relationship. Ummm. Yes. I need professional help. I’ve had lots of professional help and will probably always carry a therapist around in my back pocket. I’m not ashamed of that. But that dark night had nothing to do with why we broke up. In fact, it was that dark night that made me grow closer to her than ever before because she understood it and she was beautifully okay with it.
No, we stopped dating because of other reasons that ain’t nobody’s business but ours.
It’s not to say I’m not crazy. I hope I’m at least a little crazy. Some of the greatest minds of the past belonged to men and women who the world viewed as absolutely nuts. And maybe long after I’m dead, somebody important, somewhere, will say “that Dan Pearce wasn’t as crazy as everybody thought he was.”