January and February are always so hard on me.
I know that this winter has been a mild one. I was perplexed why this has been a particularly difficult month. Then I ticked off possible reasons. I know that I'm such a fortunate person, but that list got kind of long. House, money, job, winter, terrible current professor, winter, winter...
These things are all temporary, I know. One evening, poor Jim had to deal with me sitting on the couch with a fatalistic expression and mood. "It's never going to get better." He tried a pep talk, he tried to give me space, he tried to get me to clean with him (that always helps, actually), but I wasn't moving. Finally, we went to the store and got a replacement bulb for my "happy light." I sat under it that night, and felt better.
Seasonal Affective Disorder is no joke. It's not something I can talk or think my way out of. I'm learning to respect the weird chemicals and transmissions that are (or are not) in my brain during winter, and being more proactive.
I just spent some time lying on the floor in a square of sunlight. It's a beautiful sunny January day. I moved the chair out of the window corner, turned some John Denver, and laid down with my face in the sun. Henry joined me, Greta laid on the other side, and it wasn't long before Arlo was at my knee. For those minutes, I was elated.