I haven't been as happy, energetic, cheerful or spontaneously joyful as I used to be. Granted, I always had my moods, but I think I might be suffering from a low-grade depression or getting old sucks or both. Not that long ago, I used to have flights of joy and moments of utter happiness and I felt cheerful and energetic and hopeful at least some of the time. I still have occasional moments of contentment and happiness, but they are much fewer and farther between. They aren't a regular daily thing. And yesterday I was somewhat severely depressed all day long.
I used to lucid dream and dream I was flying regularly. Both of these dreams, which could also overlap, were full of energy and joy. I haven't had a lucid dream in years now.
I used to love the Christmas tree. All the sparkly lights and ornaments just filled me with delight. Last night, I stood a moment and gazed at the tree and was not able to find any of that delight in it. Nor have I since I moved to Detroit.
I used to love to walk in nature and my lifted and soared--but there is no nature here. And I have pain from my fibromyalgia so that walking is more difficult and painful. I still walk 45 minutes a day, but it is more akin to drudgery than joy.
I do still enjoy hugs and kisses and physical contact with K., but that contact is not nearly often enough.
The one moment of the day when I at least have contentment is when K. reads to me at night. Not every night, but often. I am also happy when I complete an art piece, poem, story or the draft of one of those or take a good picture. But that happiness seems less vivid and powerful than it used to. It is more like mild satisfaction than genuine clear untarnished happiness.
I am homesick for happiness, joy and delight.