Moods

I’m feeling sad this morning. I know, boo hoo!

Might be because I’m listening to Enya on the stereo and she has her way with my moods. Does anyone else react to music in the mood it is written or played? Or heaven forbid, are you one of those strange creatures who is always twinkling no matter what’s being played electronically or personally?

I like the way I am most times—reacting to my surroundings and feeling as much happy and satisfied as sad and indifferent. I also know how to change how I’m feeling, which usually means change the station or get out of the chair and do something physical. Visiting with friends works as does talking on the phone 

But there are the days I don’t want to do any of those things and just let the mood rule. In some ways I feel like I’m inside my skin looking out. I feel flat, no affect as they say in the therapy room. Yet when I’m inside my head, there is an entire world of the sad senses. Misery is palpable, I can put my fingertips on its surface—it feels like black cotton puffs. Other times it’s what I see through my inner eye—beautiful colors, magentas, royal blue, turquoise, green as emerald, yellow topaz. But they are behind a veil of sadness, which itself is a moving, translucent misty curtain that is endless when walking through.  And then, zap, I’m on the other side, damn, there is that little welcoming committee of responsibilities!