Winter Blues
A rant, a reflection, a glimmer of light.
Yesterday, I was complaining to Sam about:
1. Winter
2. COVID surge
3. The fact we live 700 miles away from our newborn grandson.
4. The fact that all of the trips I’d planned had to be postponed.
5. I went to the store and they were out of my favorite brand of almond milk.
6. I am never not cold.
7. Winter, again.
These are all transitory but legitimate reasons to be bummed out.
I hate this, I tell him. I feel sad and lonely. I am cold and anxious. I can’t go anywhere except work and the stupid grocery store because of the goddamn pandemic. I can’t see my friends or our grandbaby. I can’t even walk outside because it’s fucking freezing and treacherous because of the ice. I’m trapped, and my circulation stinks.
See what I mean? When I am unhappy, I nosedive. I am selfish, negative. I become the me who is not nice at all.
I know this isn’t a flattering admission. I would infinitely prefer to present myself as kind and generous. Though make no mistake, I am those things, as well.
Like pretty much every one of us, I am both the baby and the bathwater.
Nothing insulates you from sadness. Not even happiness. Instead, each tempers the other. And that is almost always enough.
Take today. I’m still a little bit sad, but my favorite almond milk is back, and we are one day closer to spring.