Writing Sadness

"Pain is easy to write. In pain, we're all drably individual. But what can one write about happiness?" ~ The End of the Affair, Graham Greene

I realised during my morning swim today that I sabotaged myself by allowing myself to turn sentimental, as I did the last two days. Dwelling on the past and the upcoming changes in life left me physically and emotionally drained. I walked more slowly, I slouched ever so slightly in my posture, I spoke with less confidence. It was, in short, self-defeating.

I used to drift off into this emotional state whenever I wrote, and it killed the enthusiasm in my life, coloured it shades of grey, suppressed bursts of colour that could otherwise explode into the canvas of a brand new hour.

It's true that it's easier to write when I'm sad, melancholic, down. The spectrum of emotions seems richer, deeper, darker, more profound. But sad writing is also a self-fulfilling vicious cycle -- I write sadness because I'm sad, and then I'm sad because I write sadness.

If there's one lesson I've learnt in the past 1.5 years since I started this job and my workout routine, it is to stay away from sadness. Sad songs, sad movies, sad stories, sad pictures -- I filter my mind to focus on the cheery, happy, positive in life. There exists in reality both versions, and I have a choice which I allow into my mind.

In times of change, it's easy to succumb to the emotional luxury of sadness. It's perhaps comforting to feel sorry for oneself. But it's ultimately damaging, I recognise this now.

And so, I shall say to sadness: "Away! Begone! I have no place in my life for you anymore!"
I have a great upward path ahead, the future may yet be unknown but it's going to be a good one. I know, because I will make it so. :)