Moments that Bring Back the Happy

Writing is a necessary part of my life, but it doesn't recharge my batteries.  These are things that do:

Watching my baby walk a stone path I laid with my four-year-old:

Seeing green things poke from the dirt:

Spotting a group of unlikely friends sharing a mystery-snack:

Making something pretty and watching it take root: 

Watching my kids build something for themselves:

Getting outside and playing in the dirt is what fuels my writing fire, not vice versa. Sometimes I have to force myself to get out there, but I always come back refreshed and ready to make words.

Which Came First? The Kernel or the Cornstalk?

I was determined to write a "happy" post today.  I don't want this to be a dismal place to visit.  I mean, I'm wearing my party hat over there  (<-----) and I wanna bring the party!

But I suffer from this icky-blicky thing called "depression", maybe you've heard of it?  It's a little dark cloud that worms its way into your stomach, then seeps into your limbs and turns to lead--biologically speaking.  This isn't new.  I've had it for years.  It waxes and wanes, lurks like a bogeyman then tackles me after munching a large cheese pizza to get sufficiently waxed.   It hurts.

I take meds for it (up your nose with a rubber hose, Cruise).  I try to eat well and do all the things I should do to keep it under control.  But it's a wrestling match sometimes.

But perhaps this is what made me a writer?  Maybe all that time I spent depressed, alone, and turning to books to escape, was the kernel that grew into a cornstalk pen? (yes, a cornstalk pen).  I'm always amazed when speaking candidly to other writers how many of us suffer from this debilitating condition.  Which came first--the depression or the desire to write?  Are they linked?

If so, I'd rather battle depression than give up my cornstalk pen. You?

*cues crickets*