Playing with Water, A story of a garden
No, I don't actually think that I suffer from melancholy as defined on Dictionary.com. But as I read this section of Kate Llewellyn's Playing with Water, A story of a garden, I paused to consider her words.
I believe that I often (and others have affirmed my thoughts on this) mis-identify my feelings and emotions--believing that I'm possibly sinking into depression or at least too much rumination.
What is it about life experience or our busy-busy world that makes me feel guilty if I spend too many days in a row almost alone or quietly at home?
Often, I find myself saying, "I love being at home." Shouldn't that be a virtue, rather than a character deficit?
Still, too much alone time makes me want more, and then it is easier to sink into a tiny bit of melancholy.