I realized yesterday that I really am glad to be living in Virginia. The winter weather has been blessedly low on both snow and cold. Two contributing factors to winter blues. Unfortunately, the light still goes away at four and I find myself listless and unwilling or unable to leave my apartment when I am left by myself. The more I want to do, the less I actually do and the more I feel guilty for falling asleep on the couch watching the Oxygen network for hours on end. Working is not the answer. I’m more depressed when I have to go to the store. Less so when I’m actually there, but back to being down when I come back from work. Working out is not the answer. It makes me feel alright about my body for a little while but as soon as I’m done exercising I feel like shouldn’t I have done more? Eating is not the answer. See guilt feelings above.
Several years ago I did try therapy. I went to a therapist through school. It didn’t help at all, but I told him that everything was turning out fine so that I wouldn’t have to listen to him talk about himself for thirty minutes at a time anymore. Forgive me if I fail to see the point in psychoanalysis. Besides, as soon as it gets that bad, the sun starts staying out longer, the trees start to flower and I’m okay again. This sucks.
It’s a new year, so I should feel optimistic or something. Resolve to change something or do something new. Instead, I feel afraid and sad and tired for no reason at all. I’ll be getting married this year. By the time the next installment of the Harry Potter saga is released, I’ll be a wife. Brides you are not alone, this thrills me and terrifies me. Fortunately, the thrill part is heavier than the terror, but the fact that its there doesn’t help the way I feel on days like this.
And I really don’t talk much about these feelings to anyone. Especially not James. For two reasons. One, he wants to fix it because he’s a male and that’s what men do. They fix things. If they can’t fix it, there must be something wrong with them. And two, he automatically thinks that it’s something wrong with him or us, and it’s too damn exhausting trying to explain that it’s not when I can’t explain what it is.
He’ll be home from watching football soon. Time to wake up my eyes and be working on wedding stuff or poetry stuff or something so that I’m not the same lump he left on the couch four hours ago. At least that’s some motivation. And at this point, I take what I can get.
There’s always hope that ol’ groundhog won’t see his shadow this year.