Posted in Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, Uncategorized

Melancholy

 

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I feel melancholy today. Not quite depressed, not quite happy. An in-between place.

Melancholy. A somewhat old-fashioned word meaning ‘sad in spirit’. Yeah, that’s me. Sad in spirit.

At first, I wasn’t going to write about it. After all, I’m kind of known for my optimism, my forgiving outlook on life. That optimism is still there, just buried right now under the melancholy.

Maybe it’s the weather. Humid, warm, overcast. But, I don’t think it is the weather that’s causing this. It’s more like life is causing this feeling of heaviness in spirit. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and I feel the years settling in my bones. Knowing my time here is limited and wondering if there’s anything next.

I feel melancholy today.

I do the same things every day. I have a pattern in my life. I have a routine. I never used to. When I was younger I did things on impulse. I quickly made up my mind and just did things. If there were consequences to my decisions I paid them and went on. I was young. I was brave. I was determined.

Now I feel old. I feel tired. I feel weighted down by obligations and routines. Yet, somehow those same things make me feel…safe. Like if I stick with my routines, my patterns, I’ll be ok. I’ll be happy, I’ll be…alive.

Like cleaning the cat box, doing the dishes, feeding the animals, taking out the trash is going to keep me in a safe cocoon of happiness.

I feel melancholy today.

I’ve been thinking of a question my sister asked me last weekend. She asked, “Do you have happy memories of mom?” That question made me sit back in surprise. Then I had to think of my childhood, my teenage years, my life now. My sister waited on the other side of the phone. It was a question I never expected.

My mom and I very rarely got along. Ever. So, I had to be honest with my sister. I told her…..”No, not really and that’s sad.” I heard her sigh as she said she didn’t have many happy memories either.

My mother was a…complicated woman. She favored my brothers. Always did. We all knew that. I didn’t hold it against her. I knew who she was, I loved her anyway.

I feel melancholy today.

I don’t think my mother is the cause of my melancholy. I don’t think growing older is the cause. Maybe there is no cause. Maybe everything is the cause.

That’s the nature of the beast. Not just one thing. Everything.

I feel melancholy today.