It’s that time of year.
It is dark when I wake up. Dark when I get home.
Cold. Dry. Windy.
It sounds silly to say, but I realized today…I am actually afraid of this time of year and what it will bring.
You see, this it the time of year where stuff starts.
It doesn’t usually peak…but it leads into what are typically the hardest months out of the year for me.
I hate the cold. I am meant to lay on a beach, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the world as it should be.
The beach is my happy place–my safe–place.
Yet, I am extraordinarily landlocked, stuck on the great plains, approaching what will inevitably be another cold, dark winter.
How do I avoid the seasonal depression?
It is so hard.
Christmas will temporarily perk me up, but that is quickly followed by my least favorite months out of the year–January and February. Those are the months where I hold my breath and close my eyes, waiting and wishing for the end of March when the world starts to come alive again and I discover the very first, resilient crocus of the spring.
My self care starts to go down this time of year. I am so tired and it is hard to work out in the dark. Weight usually starts to creep on and I start to beat myself up.
I start to question, and worry, and consider making huge decisions that I know I will never really make, but think I will in the moment because I am going stir crazy.
It is a time of year that feels haunted.
And, to be truthful…I am kind of scared to make it through another one.
It’s not that I think I won’t. I know I will. I am, overall, “okay” right now.
It is just that I know the heavy feelings that so frequently haunt ME during the upcoming months. Sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Worry. Anxiety. Unworthiness.
I don’t want them anymore.
Logically, I know that these feelings don’t HAVE to come along with the months that I hate. But…what if they come anyway?
I will deal with them. But I am tired of dealing with them.
I am tired of feeling haunted by the past. By the things that happened. By who I was and who I am. I am tired of identifying as that trauma-surviving girl who turned out alright…but who secretly aches at night.
I want to move on. (Preferably on a beach.)