IGNORANCE = BLISS?

I think I think too much. I also think that if I weren't me, I'd find me annoying.

What separates being mentally ill from NOT being mentally ill? Apparently, there is a verrrry fine line between the two. I don't think it's a very straight line either. I think it curves is some areas, and is blurry in others - more like a smudge. And try as I may to walk down the center of it, it's darn near impossible.


Depression and mental illness run rampant through my Dad's side of the family. Probably Mom's too, but Dad's actively sought treatment. They all spent their fair share of time in psychiatric hospitals, and each had a revolving cocktail of meds. I wonder what it felt like inside their heads? I mean, we all have ups and downs -- sometimes the downs last longer than the ups. But when do you cross the line?

For a while now, I've had this theory that "depression" is the soul's way of telling you you're not in the right place in your life. But with all the options available to us; and with all of society's pressures that we put on ourselves, how the hell do we know where (or who) we're truly supposed to be?

Who are the "Happy People"? Are they the ones who really know who they are? Or are they just people who are so distracted by the everyday things in life - work, kids, money - that they're too busy to sit around thinking about this shit? My brother J, for instance. He and his wife work so damn hard. They have a house that they bust their asses over; a 3 year-old son and one on the way; they even have the frigging Golden Retriever. They're about as All-American as they come. And they truly seem happy to me.

But I don't get it. 'Cause I don't think that having all that shit would make me happy -- it would just keep me busy.

I dunno... I think that for a long time in my life, I was one of them. Able to get caught up in the surroundings and just BE. But somewhere along the way, I became an overthinker, and have since been 'defiled'.