I have known true happiness: As a child on holiday in Devon, at Clifford Bridge caravan-site. Pure freedom and calm, each moment a bearer of joy, abundant energy and optimism. The world was my oyster, the future there for the taking. The contrast between then and now is painful, bitter, and sweet. I am but a shadow of my former self, a sad case of decay and the death of self. Wordsworth speaks true in his 'initimations of immortality, or recollections of early childhood':'where is it now the visionary gleam?'.
I died long ago. My true self is dead. Can it be resurrected? . I want to feel totally relaxed again, free, at peace, able to take in nature' s sights, sounds, and smells without the heavy weight of anxiety closing in on me at every breath. I mourn for the self that has died, particularly when I think about the zest for life that I experienced when very young.
Adulthood, to put it crudely, sucks. Fear, uncertainty and trepidation have replaced the old security, happiness and joy.
