We walked along the boardwalk and saw seas of waving purple flowers. They were pretty, but I found out later that they were purple loosestrife, a plant that it is illegal to sell, transport, possess or plant in Minnesota.
It takes over marshes and ponds, displacing native species like cattails and forms a dense stand that is not useful as food or habitat for Minnesota creatures.
But it looks kinda pretty.
I felt bad for enjoying how the wind blew through the vast expanses of waving purple flowers. The pollinators seemed to enjoy them at least.
There is a Carrie Newcomer song that I have referenced before (Just Below the Waves). The words she uses to describe Depression keep coming back to me:
An unwelcome guest in your home
That comes to stay and never wants to go
Not some much shadow but visitation
A haunting foreign movie with no translation
So Depression as purple loosestrife? It's not so much that it looks pretty, but but that you cannot tell just by looking at someone that they are experiencing Depression. Things might look fine on the outside. They put on a good show (especially for the outside world).
But as you look more closely, you can see that the native brain cells have been displaced by these invasive neurons that just don't work as well. How terribly scientific. I feel like there is almost a metaphor here, but not quite. It helps me to think about the unwelcome visitor as invasive. And I am looking at using anthropological, biochemical, spiritual and physical means of controlling this invader.
Update on my bedtime plans: With the exception of the dreadful 4am night I have been in bed by midnight. And sometimes long before then. I will shoot for in bed by 10:30 or 11:00 and then read until well before I start dropping the kindle fire on my head. (I would hate to have to explain a scar on my lip as "an old reading injury")
Grateful Crap: delicious homemade bread (even if spouse is baking when heat index is 104F)
took meds (150mg sertraline 300 mg bupropion)
decluttered some (but not all)
too hot to exercise
Quaker, teacher, parent,