The last week or so has seen me in a mild depression. In professional terms, it would be called situational rather than clinical, I imagine. Its nature doesn't come close to the snarling Black Dog that took up sleeping at the foot of my bed for a time many years ago. Still, this is an unpleasant feeling, and it's presence tells me that perhaps I'm not as evolved as I'd like to be.
This bad mood has come to me in response to certain personal difficulties, and thus I am reminded that my happiness, even now, hinges on my attachment to things being a certain way. When my wishes are violated, happiness tries to run and hide. The stronger the wish, the harder it is to reclaim peace of mind when it goes into its cave to fume.
The particulars here aren't important, but the essence of the situation is this: I've learned that some people I trusted and believed respected me, in fact do not. And after a time trying to see myself as blameless, I've had to acknowledge that I've acted in ways to deserve their reaction. It's not that I've done anything particularly heinous; but I've also not been as fine a human being as I'd like to be.
So my image of self has been jarred badly over the last couple of weeks, and it's this discrepancy between what is and what I want that is causing my discouragement. The flavor of my personal neurosis involves deeply wanting to be liked by others, and I've been forced to face the fact that not everybody likes me, and that they have their understandable reasons.
There is some value in the experience. I have learned that my self image is just that--an image--and that it's subject to change. Not a bad lesson. And I've been reminded that my foundations for happiness aren't quite as foolproof as I thought. When relatively routine events can snatch away our peace of mind so readily, we perhaps must acknowledge that the foundations are in need of some renovation.
So I am a work in progress, and by no means the enlightened fellow I'd like to be. Apologies if I've disappointed any of you.