I still get so fucking depressed somedays. 

When I was 16 I was diagnosed with depression. At age 19 anxiety and anorexia. 

Those are all just words. 

They don’t actually exist anywhere in my body. They aren't REAL.

Doctors just like to label things so that they can organize care around it. 

In the West, there is almost always a pill. 

And lucky for me, I got off all that shit years ago. 

I’m pretty sure that all people in the world feel deeply depressed sometimes. 

We live in a shitty, fucked up planet. 

The first thing that the Buddha wanted us to understand is that the world sucks. 

And that you’re here to suffer. 

So on days like this, 

(Third day in a row actually)

I just try to fucking let it happen. 

Open the blinds. 

Pour my coffee. 

Sit at my altar. 

Stare into space and let time pass. 

Then lay on my couch and journal about how fucking sad I am. 

I’ve tried to get into the shower about three times this morning. 

My brain is hunting and searching for reasons as to why I’m so depressed today. 

When it’s pretty obvious:

I spend the last ten days on pure vacation. 

Completely checked out of my routine. 

Completely wrapped up in another person. 

Drinking. Smoking. Spending all day in the sun. 

Going to bed completely exhausted. 

And sharing every moment with a girl who’s more in love with me than I am with her. 

I know it probably sounds harsh to put it that way. 

But it’s as simple as that. 

I could list all the many reasons that we are not realistically compatible. 

But at the end of the day, the feelings she has for me, I just can’t match them. 

They just aren’t there. 

And yet, I love being around her. 

I love laying in her arms. 

I love all the adventures we’ve had. 

I love how fun she is and how she lets me talk for hours. 

I love how she’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.

So I'm just supposed to not see her again??


She leaves on a plane and it’s like I wake up from a dream. 

Faced with the reality of knowing I have to break her heart now. 

And ignoring the fact that all of this breaks my heart too. 


I keep wondering - what if too much freedom in my life allows for these depressed days? 

When I’m not forced to work 9-5 and my entire business runs on my own will, 

I can let myself have a quiet day of working sadly from my bed. 

I can let myself run the TV in the background and order takeout. 

I don’t have to force myself to go anywhere or do anything. 

I don’t have to put on a front or a fake face for anyone.

And I keep wondering - is that actually what is most healthy for me? 

My capitalist programming collides with my liberated mind in that moment. 

I wish I could just quiet my brain. 

I wish I didn’t have to analyze everything so heavily. 


I’m so hard on myself. 

I’m harder on myself than most people I know. 

I’m hard on myself for not being more in love with her. 

I’m hard on myself for letting her come to stay with me when maybe I should have said no. 

I’m hard on myself for not working a 60 hour week. 

I’m hard on myself for still getting depressed and still making immature mistakes after 10 years of being so devoted to my healing path. 

There’s some part of me that still feels like an out of control, closeted little 16 year old. 

Who’s trying to make up for all the lost time she spent trying to be into boys. 

And all the time she spent pretending that she was okay. 

It’s like sometimes I have to feed her, and let her run wild. 

But then the outcome is days to match that frequency. 

Low vibration. 

Apathetic. 

Leaning towards nihilism. 


I’ve built this whole career for myself as a leader and an inspiration for people who are exactly like me. 

And yet, I’ve buried myself under this extra layer of feeling like I need to prove how healed I am in order to be worthy of this role. 

When the truth is something that everyone already knows. 

I’m in this journey right there with you. 


I’m so entrenched. 

Sometimes I wish I could just snap back into the matrix and go to sleep again. 

Get a job that sucks the life out of me. 

A boss that makes me feel like a piece of garbage. 

I’d take up smoking cigarettes again. 

And probably start to grow a beer belly. 

I’d settle down with some possessive machismo girlfriend who dims my light. 

And find myself getting stoned in a car I can’t afford in the parking lot of an American city office building that employees my lost soul. 

Waiting on the day it all finally ends and I get to go check out this heaven they’re all raving about. 

And as soon as I walk myself deep into that path of what my life would look like if I never woke up - I wake up again. 

Because the truth is - if I never woke up spiritually - I would be dead by now. 

100% absolutely. 

So if I have a depressed Wednesday (and Tuesday and Monday) waking up alone in my gorgeous apartment to a rainy day in the tropics with the freedom to literally cancel the entire day if I want to… 

Then nothing seems so bad. 

I’ve seen much worse days. 

And I think the more depressed days I have, the less depressing they actually are. 

Because even though it feels like I’ve done zero work on myself. 

My depressed days used to look a lot more violent than this crying and journaling I’m balls deep in at the moment.