Moving beyond depression is a bit like leaving the ruins of your house blown apart by a sudden explosion. It’s tough! You don’t want to. It makes a melancholic sense to hang on to the broken pieces, hoping that you can still piece things together. You see the ghost of the sorrowful self still lurking in the ruins, lurking behind bare brick walls, standing underneath gaping hole in the ceiling, staring at the starry night framed by naked, twisted steel rods sticking out of the shattered concrete. This ghost has seen the light through the explosion and wants to forever be lost among the ruined foundations.
And when you have realized the immense blessing that the depression has been, the sense of old self becomes a thick nostalgic fog that lingers in the throat. What you’ve lost doesn’t want to leave you entirely. What’s new is not wholly invited. There is such a sense of immense sacrifice that you’d want to cloak it around you as a new identity. You drag it around and display it to the world. But then one day you realize, it’s all done.
Your sense of former self has been blown to bits. The field day you’ve had sobbing in the ruins is done too. The bits don’t belong to you anymore. What happens to the ruins is no longer your concern. Sacrifice is not a virtue anymore. All that’s left is a beautifully broken mind, a seedling of heart sprouting new hope, and a world full of possibilities. Above all a deep sense of aliveness inside that can lead to renewal of innocence and a new song. The cloak is the skin that has been shed. The snake cannot carry it around anymore. There’s no point to it.
If one continues to wrap it around and live in the ruins, one becomes a ghost of the past, haunting places that don’t exist anymore except as fading, weather-torn ruins in time-divorced spaces of the mind. The ghost cannot desperately cling to the thick night to see the glowing light again. The ghost and night needs to pass. Gray needs to give way to purple, and purple to pink, yellow and orange. If you need to let out one last cry, do it now. Let the tears carry away the hopelessness and melancholy that you’ve made your home. And let the final sigh give birth to renewal.
The night is through. Walk out into the dawn. You don’t know what is out there. But then you never did. The child still learns to eagerly crawl, walk, and explore. Let’s not meet the future. Let’s meet this moment fully. Let’s meet each other fully. Let’s meet this world fully.