a love letter to melancholy
A couple of years ago we moved to our first house. A quiet, secluded home at the end of a cul-de-sac.
It was simple
It was ours
It was home.
We looked forward to weekends. Trips to Tesco and evening barbecues. But those dreams were dashed to pieces the first weekend in. It began with low rumbles, getting louder and louder as if testing the waters. Laughter mixed with off-key pop favourites filled the air. Then 60Hz of sub-bass escaped from the house next door and spilled in.
A party.
It sounded lit!
Sometimes life in our quiet hideaway gave way to a full-blown rave.
We'd fall asleep with ganja in the air. Then, wake up on a high.
One time we locked ourselves out.
Silly me!
Our new neighbours, hearing the embarrassing chatter, offered to help us break into our own home. He was very good about it. Metal clothes hanger in tow. A nimble arm through our letterbox.
Nice!
We eventually moved from that place. Somewhere new. Somewhere better. I remember at the time adopting the illusion that "everything is going to be fine."
We gathered the courage.
We stayed positive.
We pushed on.
But all this left me wondering about the places we find ourselves. The places we call home. Sometimes these places force us to stay silent when we should be screaming inside. What holds us back from breaking free? How do we come alive again?
This is something I've asked myself a million times over. You may not know this, but I lost the last two years of my life to depression. Longer, if I am completely honest.
Sometimes things got better,
Sometimes life got terrible again.
A year here, a month there.
No warning.
Uninvited.
Understandably, a lot of people choose positive thinking as a ticket to riding out these dark times. I am one of them. These days, positive vibes can be big business. It's impossible to escape on social media. And it's not difficult to understand why. Over the last few months, we've all lost something to the pandemic.
Our livelihood
Our identity
Our certainty
Being positive helps!
But sometimes, I wonder whether positive thinking, Shakespearean in all its energy, is only but a sleight of hand. An easy recipe for never genuinely learning about who you are when the mess hits the fan.
I once heard this terrifying bedtime story about this ancient sage. His family went through a terrible traumatic experience.
They lost their homes
Their lands…
They had to start this new life.
Then after many years, they were ready to rebuild.
And as you can imagine.
Rebuilding a life isn't very easy.
The thing about melancholy is that it always mourns a past that no longer exists. So things got pretty nostalgic. They reminisced about the "good old days." They cried. A lot! Because boy! Things had changed.
They cried for their homes.
They mourned their livestock.
The loss of their beautiful countryside.
They cried because they lost their livelihood.
They cried because they realised that life would never be the same...
It would take a lot of time and energy to rebuild.
To recover…
The interesting thing about this story is that some people had an altogether different reaction. Some people grew up only hearing rumours about a home they had never seen. They weren't as tied to the land as their parents.
To be honest?
They were just happy to be home.
Any home…
They were excited to look around the room and see the people they knew and loved.
Happy to stop and put down roots.
Connect with friends, new and old.
They were happy because tonight, they were finally able to sleep in their own beds.
Two different reactions
Two different emotions
But both absolutely legitimate and true
Happiness!
Joy
And the sound of weeping.
I think the pandemic, if anything, has pulled back the curtains on something that has long been hidden. That perhaps melancholy, not just positivity is the hero for our time.
Yes, it's incredible to look ahead.
Yes, it's comforting to focus on the things that make us feel good.
But sadness is also an essential part of life.
And I get it! No one wants to be that person! In a social media world dominated by quotes and good times, melancholy is on the losing team...
Melancholy is the opposite of hope.
It's soft.
It is darkness and blues.
It is rain and drear.
But I've learned, after many hours of trial and error, that sometimes, the ugly parts of humanity are where hope lives.
Maybe these so-called "negative emotions"
Grief
Sorrow
Sadness
Maybe they shouldn't be hidden away.
Maybe melancholy is ALSO a helpful guide.
Teaching us how to grow
Leading us to stronger places
Kinder spaces
And while positivity teaches us to push beyond difficult times, melancholy encourages us to do the inner work. To sit with:
sadness
anxiety
adversity
disappointment
anger
uncertainty
fear…
I think melancholy intimately knows something that positivity would rather we forget. And that is when we lose control, life happens. And life, whether positive or negative, happy or sad, is still a beautiful thing. I've found that something miraculous always happens when I make space for both.
It's fragile
It's inspired
It's flawed
But it can also be filled with so much wonder - if you let it.
Can I tell you something? The next time home becomes unhomely or strange. The next time you feel a rising sense of anger, fear, or sadness, I want you to do something for me.
I want you to be still.
Just slow down!
Breathe into the spaces where you feel stuck. Pay homage. But also remember to leave room for all your emotions, not just the ones that feel good. I think when you stop to recognise these feelings, you genuinely honour what it means to be human. To experience,
Happiness!
Joy
Sadness
All of it.
To fear
To feel lonely
To delete that sad playlist.
To go easy on cake
To EAT more cake
All of it.
To change
To dream beautiful things
To innovate in the face of mounting odds
To let people in
To live
To die
To know hope
All of it.
And since we all die anyway
You might as well live.
You might as well love.
So love
Love well + Repeat.
- - - -
Joel Duntin