hello my feral friends,

i can’t wait to tell you about the couple things i did this weekend that just ignited my wild soul’s fire!  you can read about them tomorrow and the day after.

right now, i need to deal with a little topic that can get a little out of hand in my life.  it’s the opposite of express yourself, kids.  the big, many clawed beast of depression.  oh, so civilized a fellow he is.  he sits and just waits for me to no longer worry about him, reclines with such elegance that i don’t notice him in the corner there, so well-behaved he is until…BLAM!  i just get to wander around lost in my brain that he’s just invaded.  the first thing he does is close off all the little windows and skylights in my brain that let in the light.  he likes it dark, still, and that everyone carries on with polite decorum.

this is the aspect of the wild woman that i don’t talk about much.  well, i don’t think i do.  i like to pretend it doesn’t exist.  i like to put forth this image that i’m hardcore and my attitude is just as big as the sky.  sometimes.  but, i’m a pretty fragile flower really.

instead of making me need to behave, that fragility is the very reason that i need to be wild and wilder and wilder.  i can be as vulnerable as i truly am when i’m walking in the woods and my broken brain doesn’t seem broken out there.  i don’t have to wear a certain mask when i’m swimming in the ocean.  nor do i have to be a culturally appropriate lady.  i can yell outside.  i am a freer girl when i can use my outside voice.

the dapper depression monster does enjoy my company sometimes.  and, these days is one of those times.  i haven’t been getting enough sleep, mcdonald’s has probably recorded my voice three times in the past two days (just because it can hardly believe that my voice is there!), and i haven’t been able to express my self as i’d like.  oh, poor me, right?

that’s the hardest part for me.  i mean, really, is my life that bad?  nope, it’s not.  and, yep, it has been.  no need for the sob story, but, my acceptance of my tendency to share a couple cupcakes with the suited beast of many manicured claws is also the acceptance that diabetics go through or those who dance with cancer must eventually make.  i can rail against the injustice of my brain broken in places because i wasn’t nurtured by the world in the way that all children should be all that i want or just accept that there are a series of practices that i must do over and over and over, daily for the rest of my life.

one of those practices is being physically active.  my brain fucks me over consistently.  my body just wants to have a good time.

another is nourishing myself like a goddess.  herbal infusions, plenty of meat, vegetables from all the colors of the spectrum, and lots of fat makes my cells sing.  grains and sugar and seed oils make my cells weep in pain.  (true story.)

yet another (the hardest for me) is retraining my brain.  habits of thought are deeply entrenched.  just as i was brainwashed (we all were) to think a certain way, i can brainwash myself to think another way.  this is also called “doing the work” and we all know how i feel about work, especially when i’m not getting paid or with no vacation time anywhere in sight.

there are other more specific habits that fall under these umbrellas that i will probably be talking about, but my depression, contrary to what i used to think, does not need to be tamed, but let loose.

getting wild is so much more than about physical strength.  it’s also about emotional vulnerability and safety.  seriously, do wild creatures even get depressed?

in the words of the incomparable, *express yourself, don’t depress yourself!

*nope, it’s not lost on me that this video takes place in an industrial NIGHTMARE.  discuss amongst yourselves.