How do you get through the dark spaces in your life: writer’s block, limbo, your own personal version of a little black cloud over your head? How do you find your way when you’re lost? How do you keep on keeping on, when you’re really not sure of anything?

Recession, Depression, Schmacession

Times are rough, all over. Whether you’re watching your retirement savings collapse, you’re one of the half-million people in the US who lost their jobs last month, or you’re just having a bad week, the atmosphere of doom and gloom these days can be pretty overpowering.

My calculus is this: I simply cannot afford to let the negative voices get going in my head. I’ve been down that path, and it goes nowhere good. As tempting as it is to just curl up and pull the covers over my head, it’s not a viable long term strategy. There are bills to pay, lives to be lived, and in my case, little mouths to feed and little psyches to nurture. I must keep on keeping on. So the question is, how?

I have two answers.

When Times Get Tough, The Tough Get Silly

When I’m mired in simple frustration, when I feel like I’ve been banging my head against a brick wall, when everything I produce seems like crap, or I’m simply boring myself, I like to take a step back and make a conscious decision to have fun. I ask myself “How can I make this bigger? wilder? sillier?” It’s a creative jolt, and I get excited again.

I did this in college, with some interesting results: I wrote a paper arguing that St. Augustine was radically pro-female. I attached a paper on Haiku to a flowering branch. I made a “text installation” for a choreography class. I usually got A’s when I decided to have fun.

I think this strategy works because it short-circuits my tendency to take things too seriously.

Introducing laughter into a situation takes the sting out of it. And changing my perspective lets me see alternatives that I couldn’t see from the trenches.

Giving In, Letting Go: Calling On Your Angels

Now, silly doesn’t work for the really dark times. When depression has hit, when a family member is ill, when anxiety and dread leave me shaking, I imagine that I am held by angels. These angels are the same height as the Christmas Tree hall in the Metropolitan Museum of Art: two majestic stories. In proportion to these angels, I am smaller than a baby. I don’t have to imagine for long—soon, I can feel them, cradling me. I let go into their embrace. And I understand in that moment that they’re always there.

I like to think that little old me is hurtling herself through this world. All that self-hurtling is exhausting. When I just can’t toss myself up another mountain, it helps to know that I’m held by angels, as are my loved ones, as are the people I’m worried about, as are the people I’m fighting with, as is everyone else. I can relax, and then just do what has to be done.

So what do silliness and angels have to do with each other? As G.K. Chesterton pointed out: “Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly.”

Now it’s your turn: what does it take to get you through the night?

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