Skip to content

Winter Break

February 26, 2013

Really truly almost dark

I have been afraid to write it because it seems so gloomy and pointless.

This winter was dark in every way. Putting Goldie down at the end of September was perhaps the worst time to do it, as the seasons swung down into darkness. There were a few bright days right after that, or at least briefly diverting, with a Toyota trip that included “camping” and kayaking, and then Creative Alliance 12, which would soothe anyone, no matter how much their heart hurt.

But after that the darkness pulled down, down, down. My best friend’s mom died. Then Sandy Hook. Then my cousin killed himself the next day, on December 15. His funeral, a giant, sprawling, horribly sad affair (though a beautiful tribute) was December 22.

I’m never much on Christmas, because of the Seasonal Affective Disorder, but this year it just didn’t exist, though I stood on stage at my church’s Christmas Eve pageant with all of the other performers.

In the midst of it was me, a tiny person stuck in the little crack of time between when I awoke and when I could go to sleep again.

It’s weird what keeps us going. Thank God for the things that act like lilypads of hope for us to jump to, one after the other, small, fragile, but just enough.

For me it was Zumba. One hour at a time of jumping around and looking like a lunatic and sweating with other ladies, laughing. One hour maybe three or four times a week, five if I was lucky. My heart was broken, but my thighs got strong.

That was about it. I would go over to my mom’s house and have nothing to say. I’d sit in the corner of the couch and listen to her rattle on about what she had for lunch, wondering how soon I could politely leave.

I would see my friends for an hour or two and then fade back home, on the couch, hiding from the darkness with red wine and some popcorn, waiting until it was time to go to sleep.

It has started to change in the past few weeks. I got this dog, which is another post, because that wasn’t easy, either. I love her, but damn, it’s still hard.

But now I have a new boss, more fun work, and…sun. The sun is coming back. Next year I have to get the meds, because I can’t spend five months a year like this. No one should have to. And there’s some stuff I have to figure out. Onward.

  1. February 26, 2013 07:47

    You’ve had a horrible season. Here’s to seeing some light.

  2. February 26, 2013 08:27

    The sun is coming in more ways than one. Hugs and love to you.

  3. February 26, 2013 09:17

    I stare at candles all winter, though sometimes that just makes the blackness around the flame bigger. You have been through a lot–hug yourself for me.

  4. February 26, 2013 13:12

    God, I so feel you. I’m sorry for the long winter. Let the light come in.

  5. February 27, 2013 07:13

    This winter was harder than most, that’s for sure. I’m glad you had even those short bright spots to keep you moving forward.

  6. February 27, 2013 17:26

    I hadn’t realized I was feeling similar, until I started to notice that the evenings are staying lighter longer…it’s now still light when I leave the office. We are turning the corner.

  7. February 28, 2013 10:40

    SAD is insidious. The hardest part is acknowledging that you have it. Dealing with it comes next.

  8. March 1, 2013 11:16

    You’re not the only one that feels this way. Despite being in CA, the last few months have s.u.c.k.e.d. I hope the sunshine and warmth of the last few days have helped!

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: