Sometimes, you just can’t help it. The forces at work that make you, well, you—all conspire to force you to take a step back. And sometimes more than one. And sometimes for longer than you think it should be. As my sister once said, “it’s life, Mom, not Disneyland.” So you dwell and mine the gold that comes out of the abyss of depression—the sadness, grief and resentment turning itself into new knowingnesses that creep up on you, out of the darkness.
