It should come to no shock to any “longtime” readers of this here blog that when it comes to winter darkness I’m easily affected by what I like to call, “The Sads.” Or Seasonal Affective Disorder if you’re being all proper and such.
I don’t think it would matter how far north or south I lived, in the winter when our days shift and we start having more darkness my body registers this change. It doesn’t register the extra darkness by an increased desire to knit, or to craft, it doesn’t welcome the extra darkness with a flourish to exercise or eat right or spend more time curled up with a good book and some tea.
No. When it starts geting really dark my body wants to be one place. The couch. With a glass, or twelve, of wine in hand.
It wants to sleep in late, go to bed early, accomplish zero items on the to-do list, and happiness is only achieved when the DVR is full and the blanket is fluffy and warm.
I don’t care how great my life is at the time, or how stress free it may be pre-darkness, once November sets in all bets are off. Life is heavier, and harder, and motivation just doesn’t exist.
So you might be able to understand when I say that even with all the awesome in my life right now, new job (!!!!!), amazing new house (!!!!), knee that is recovering really well every day (!!!!!), because it’s December life is really hard for me right now.
I get up when I need to. I drive to work. I attend my new job that is really exciting and fun. I attend physical therapy and I bend and stretch and I get better. I come home to my beautiful new home and I’m so happy it is mine and I even manage to make dinner.
But after that I just can’t. Adam finishes dinner and starts talking about his to-do list. Unpack this box, or hang this, or sort through this and that and I just look at him like he’s speaking another language. Usually when we move I am ALL OVER unpacking. I want pictures hung, boxes opened, things setup 40 minutes after getting the keys. But not this move. This is the first time we’ve moved in December, my evil month. First time we moved in December AND I had a new job. First time we moved in December AND I had a new job AND was recovering from a major surgery.
On one hand my life is so fucking full of unicorn amazing. It’s exciting and wonderful and awesome and sparkles shoot out of my ass on the daily. But it’s also miserable and hard and I feel like I’m walking through quicksand and no less than 12 times a day I look at my calendar where December 20th is highlighted as the day we leave for a week back home in California and I want to speed up time.
I’ve never been so happy and miserable at the same time.