Do witches get depressed? That thought has been plaguing me for a while now. I suffer from severe bouts of depression. I have for as long as I can remember. I have considered myself a witch for over 20 years. I haven't always been a practicing witch during that time and in fact have only seriously begun living witchcraft in the last four or five years. Still, the depression comes, and I fall apart. I've never handled the depression well. I tend to cower and hide when it comes over me. I make excuses and shut myself off from the people I need to be around and the things that I need to do. I once tried a spell to make the depression go away. Note to self: Don't cast spells when depressed as it tends to make them go haywire.
I find that my best time of year, when I'm at my brightest and the depression is buried deep inside, is the fall. When it starts to cool down and you step outside in the morning and the air is crisp and chill. That time of year seems to calm me most of all. I love spring, when the flowers are just beginning to bloom and the earth becomes fertile. I love summer, when I can plant my vegetables and watch them grow and feel I've reached a mutual accomplishment with nature (even though I can barely survive the heat). I love the thunderstorms and lightening, the hurricanes and tornados. I feel they are Mother Nature's way of cleaning house. It pains me when people and animals are harmed by her fury, but I consider it an important part of the cycle of life. And now to winter. I love winter. I love the cold, I LOVE the snow (when we get it here) and the way everything seems so clean and has so much new potential.
Fall...autumn...that is the best for me. The black fog seems to recede and I am clear minded, as clear minded as a bipolar manic depressive witch can be, and I actually enjoy being alive. I am so glad to feel its presence in the air. It might be hot out now, but behind the heat, slowly pushing its way to the forefront is autumn. It makes me happy to know it is coming. As it brushes forward into being it forces the slimy tendrils of my depression to release their grasp. As it comes closer, the fog recedes into hiding, freeing my mind of its cage. Hopefully, while it is in hiding, I can find a way to release it from my being. Or at the least to bury it deep inside the maze of my mind...