It was rather ironic that I posted to another absentee blogger that I hoped she’d post and update soon. Here I sit (not writing much lately), and I’m finding it so difficult to let my thoughts and feelings make it past some block into written words.
There was something particularly painful at the end of my son’s visit home at the holidays. I haven’t been able to process just how much it hurt, what it means, and where to go from there. That was vague, and I apologize for that. I’m just not sure how much to say about it all.
I find myself in the part of winter where days seem to slide silently from one to another like cold steel on a silent metal trolley. This is when not going out much feels the most oppressive. These are the days when even small victories like walking the stairs up and down, drinking water intentionally, and remembering to take supplements are like dragging my own body forward by the fingernails at a determined crawl.
Maybe it’s the SAD days (seasonal affective disorder). I don’t particularly like sharing the gritty gray so honestly, because it seems to invite trite platitudes; words that the introvert within me responds to with a veiled look, and then retreats to a place of solitary honesty. By this afternoon, and after striking against the gray by walking, singing, and staring in the face of depression with Determination, I’ll find the oasis of resolute cheerfulness that will send me to look at ways to acquire a greenhouse, and mentally plan which seeds to buy and start ahead of time for transplanting.