Welcome back to my world, friends, it's been awhile.
I have not been in a good space. It started with a bad case of what I was calling "The Februaries." Snow in December is pretty and exciting. The whole month is spent preparing for "The Holidays" and all the lights, tinsel, and general hoo-ha that goes along with it.
We start sobering up a bit in January, but we're still in the thrall of beginning a new year and all the possibility that holds. Snow days, especially if they happen to extend the Christmas vacation, are still celebrated by kids. The holiday withdrawal is pretty rough, but we soften it by creating a new cultural event - The Super Bowl.
By February the charm is gone. Enough already. It's dark, cold, and snow is a heavy, icy burden. The kids are tiring of their video games and various electronic media, and the fun of sledding and snowballs wore off back in December. Stuck inside, I fret about what I consider my non-abilities in home decor. I'm dissatisfied with my nest. I'm also frequently caught inside with an energetic 2 year old and I'm even tired of our usual indoor haunts. I believe that we celebrate Valentine's Day because otherwise February would be unbearable. I looked it up this year and was shocked at how thin the mythological underpinnings for the holiday are. I think we had to set aside a date to focus on love and chocolate this time of year to keep us from general despair.
Maybe I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, and even if I don't I certainly understand it. Even though it theoretically starts growing lighter after the solstice, I find that a darkness descends. My space feels too small, too cluttered, too ugly. The daily routine starts feeling mind-numbingly routine. I'm drained of creativity and mental energy.
Not a good place to write from.
Oh, I tried. The results were really not worth sharing.
I'm working on scratching and clawing my way back out, but this spring, which has been a brutal mix of cold, flood, and dark, really isn't helping anything. Nor is the fact that the whole world feels especially topsy-turvy, both geologically and politically.
But the sun will come out again, it always does. And those precious moments of closing your eyes, throwing your head back, and basking in the warmth and light of the sun almost makes all those days of misery worthwhile. Almost.
But excuse me, I should probably end this so I can check the weather radar to gauge the likelihood of another flash flood this afternoon.
And how are you?
