I have been going through some poetry I wrote years ago, and it amazes me how some of it still feels true today. Here is one of them:
It is the dark, silent
that penetrates so.
Like the unrelenting
of an angry lover.
I seem to get the blues in the evening (especially in wintertime) when dinner is over and the day is winding down and I am tired from having struggled through another day.
In the quiet time. To some, solitude; to others solitary confinement.
I found a coloring book of Mandalas that I bought. I sit with my headphones on listening to meditation music and color. It is relaxing and right-brained. And it passes the evening.