Despite my ardent optimism, I can occasionally succumb to the temptation of a melancholic mood. Today is one of those days.

I’m not upset. I’m not angry. I have absolutely no reason to be anything but chipper and my usual bubbly self; but I’m not. Lugubrious would be a generous term to describe my current state of mind.

As I always do when overcome by this particular emotion, I’ve been trying to rationalize my way through it.

So I started by thinking about the good things in my life:

• I’m married to a patient, loving, and caring man.
• I have a GREAT job and I love what I do.
• My family is unparalleled when it comes to their support, encouragement, and love.
• I’m in school studying something I’ve dreamed about doing for more than a decade.
• Life is good.

When I tried to make a list of bad things, for comparison, I realized I didn’t really have much to say. Other than being pressed for time, I have nothing in my life that I’m not happy with or already working to improve. Yes, I wish I were a little more organized with my time and that I held myself more strictly to the deadlines/goals I set for myself, but outside of that – life truly is good.

So why does this mild depression keep returning? It is becoming more frequent now, coming once every two weeks or so whereas it used to be only every few months. Is this part of the aging process? Should I expect this to happen in greater succession with each passing year? By this logic, I’ll be living in a state of utter despondency by 35.

Hmmmm, not good. Time for a self-intervention.

Mood is a choice. I firmly believe that. While I do believe your environment, your experiences, and the people around you can influence your mood, at the end of the day it is your choice.

You can choose to wallow in your depression or to claw your way out of it. You can choose to smile when you feel pain; to laugh when you wish to cry instead of letting the misery swallow you whole. You can overcome the cortisone pumping through your bloodstream, beat back the burgeoning self-doubt, and be confident in your abilities and your worth.

Knowing all of this, being rational and logical about it, normally scares off the melancholy and puts me back in control. Today, though…it’s not working quite the same. I feel better, but not completely myself.

And so I wonder… do I perhaps enjoy the occasional lachrymose day? Does the break from my bubbly mindset give me a slight reprieve from the expectations I’ve set for myself? Perhaps it’s good to give in once in a while. To let the emotions have their way with me. To sink deeply under the covers of my id and wrap my arms around the delicious abuser my soul has dreamed up for me.

The hot breath of insecurity on my ear, whispering his sweet nothings. My failures and deficiencies keep me warm.

I think I might be in love with my melancholy day.

~ Victoria Elizabeth Ann