I try to stay emotionally balanced and optimistic, but with my personality and worldviews, balancing on a paring knife is almost as easy as it for me to keep my balance.

I fell off within the last few days. As usual, I crashed into angry, bitter darkness. I felt lost and alone. It’s not fun. It’s exhausting. Walking and writing both help me climb back out of the dark canyon. It was a long climb this time. Today’s walk definitely helped.

So did conscious efforts to release my anger, bitterness, frustration, sadness, despair, hopelessness…name a negative emotion or reaction, and I probably had it in the mix. Each step on the walk was punctuated with me hissing to myself, “Release my anger, release my bitterness, release my frustration,” and so on. Eventually, feeling stronger and cleaner, and enjoying a sense that those negative energies were evaporating, I turned it into a more positive urging, “No anger, no bitterness, no frustration.”

This plunge felt deeper and darker. I don’t know why this one was so deep and dark. I don’t know why that was so. Outwardly, all was well. I’m editing a novel. Other novel concepts swirl through me head. Projects are established.

I was having issues with Amazon KDP and their paperback process. It took longer than expected. Of course, I’d been set up for disappointment with claims about how fast – five minutes – and easy it’s supposed to be. It was not that easy, which might just be me, and nothing else. I found their support process short of expectations, too. When I contacted them with a problem using their Cover Creator, they kicked back something nonsensical and suggested I use their Cover Creator.

Eventually, with stubbornness and persistence, I overcame the issues. Then the darkness hit.

So I walked today. I hadn’t planned to go so far. Sometimes I intuitively know what’s needed. Today, my mind and body requested a hard, fast, long walk.

After a mile, I was striding fast. Sweat soaked my Tilly hat and shirt, and tickled my neck as drops dripped off my hair and ears. I breathed hard and my heart thundered in my ears. Still, I pressed on until I realized that I was out of the shadow of darkness. The world seemed better, then, and my hope and optimism were restored.

Still, in the aftermath, I wonder what it is in me that causes these regular, recurring crashes. I know my wife hates them. I’m not fond of them, either. I imagine others experience them, too. If they’re like me, it’s probably only those closest to them who are aware that they’re going through. If they’re like me, others probably aren’t aware of the depths of despair, bitterness and frustration encountered.

My outward signs are that I become almost a mute. I’m often truculent when I do respond to others. It’s not deliberate, or a choice, but something I endure, and try to overcome. I’m probably okay for another twenty to thirty days.

Then it will come again. I’ll try to be ready, and I’ll resist it. Sometimes, I’m more successful than other times, but it’s not at all predictable.

I’ll take it on when it comes.