In this moment, I am not my higher self. I am occupying a low-level primitive existence, thinking like a caveman about how to “get food in mouth.” I haven’t even been writing anymore. I have been completely blocked off for over a month. I’m no longer thinking about metaphors, doorways, and opportunities. I feel stuck and trapped.

I recognize that depression is a state; it is a place. When I am in this place, I am unintuitive and unable to receive from the Divine; I’m isolated from others, and I cannot be of service to the world until I crawl back out.  When I am seemingly stuck here, I feel like I can’t go anywhere.

In reality, I don’t have to dwell in this place. I am not confined and if I don’t want to live in a state, well then, I don’t have to. The root of my existence does not call for me to continuously occupy this space. I will myself to leave this place.