So I’ve been feeling quite blue lately. 

Perhaps it’s just because of the weather or that regular monthly hormonal turbulence or maybe it’s due to the loads of stuff that I keep thinking about lately. 

Or yeah maybe I just miss somebody really bad especially that it’s Vday on Tuesday. Haha. 🙈🙉🙊

But mind you, it is okay to be sad, really. When you know how to cope with it.

I have been openly writing about that certain sadness I often find myself returning to every time. 

Perhaps it’s just that I’m naturally sad. As much as there are also people who are naturally happy or funny or mischievous or naive or nervous. 

And I guess that is something you should not take against anybody. 

Anyway so I came across this random write up about Sylvia Plath (do you know her?)

She lived a sad and difficult life but nevertheless is perhaps one of the most celebrated women poets of all time.

Although she died a most infamous death by putting her head in the oven while she left her two children at their upstairs bedroom to themselves with a fair amount of food & milk in case it would take long for people to discover she was already dead.

Here was a letter she wrote to her mother about her depression:

I’m sure it’s difficult to just dismiss (or as she put it, shut off) a nagging like that. 

It should be known that these things need to be processed. And each unique case has a unique healing direction to be carefully embarked on.

So if you know anyone having a sad kind of sad, reach out to them. Encourage them to express (in all forms) their fears and feelings and thoughts. Don’t make them feel abandoned or helpless or hopeless.

Did you know that Plath even went to the nuthouse (as she called it) for quite a time and underwent rigorous therapy because of her depression?

But yeah that did not stop her from eventually killing herself. 

My point is that, whatever happened to sylvia plath could happen to anyone with really minimal emotional support.

Sylvia’s husband left her with two kids, who were getting sickly, for another woman, and the three of them lived off her meager book income, and she was supposed to publish another book but her depression finally got hold of her. 

In other words, she was pushed to the brink without anything to hold on to. 

And I’m sure you don’t want that to happen to anybody you love.

Yesterday, February 11, we remember Sylvia in her death on 1963.

So please be a friend this February and go reach out to a sad, sad soul. 😊