We need others. We do. Even though others exhaust me I still need connections. The joy of writing here under the Moodscope umbrella is that I can connect and at the same time I can be free. Sometimes we have partners, friends and family to connect with and sometimes we don't. We might mourn their loss or we may still be trying to find a balm to soothe the sting they left behind.

Marmaladegirl is currently walking away from an abusive relationship. Dragonfly has been wounded by someone she trusted as a friend. Poppy feels let down and alone. Bert needs lifted onto shoulders and held up for a while. The Gardner is perhaps our eldest daily poster riding out the storm of Mr The Gardener's Alzheimer's. Jul feels good riding her bike. Charlie is a farmer. There are all kinds of people here, picking through all kinds of things, all kinds of ages. I think of Moodscope like a park, we wander in, or we jog, we maybe even run, some are here daily, some make it once a week, and we all take turns in sitting on the park bench under the big tree. There we leave messages for one another. A little encouragement. A little hope. We leave notes hanging in the tree and others read them. Some reply. Some just read. Everyone benefits from the rest and the companionship.

One thing that is clear is that there is no easy fix for this thing we carry. It's there, sprawling and ugly and heavy. Nobody wants it. Nobody offers to hold it. It's ours. But far from that feeling like it's a dead end, it is really just a beginning. When you walk to the furthest place, you see things other people don't. You learn things others won't. If we stand at the bottom of the hill we'd never see the landscape. We are the ones walking up, often parched and unguided. The other way to see that is that we are trailblazers! You choose whether you hold this thing and burn. Or whether you hold this thing and find your unique way of accommodating it.

It's here. It's with us. A bit like Daleks. What will we do with it? I'm starting my day on a egg, trailblazing through with a bit of poaching and some salt and pepper. There. Strike one. A little yoga is strike two. And writing this is "three strikes and you're out". Depression can eat dust. Aim small. Go, my friends. Go!

Love from

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member.