“Change starts when someone sees the next step.” – William Drayton

Murk

Winter – Spring 2010

Winter comes and I go into hibernation. I sleep most of the day and am up most of the night; the only time I feel at some sort of peace is in total darkness. The cold and bleakness only heightens my inherent genetic predisposition to depression. I stuff macaroni and cheese into my gullet at every turn. I take Knox for long walks in the middle of the night and the only lights leading the way is attached to his collar and the blinking light of the lighthouse out at sea. The world is silent and still.  The days, weeks, and holidays all mix into one big thick blob as I try to make my way through.

Day In and Day Out seems to be an endless repeat of a Chekhovian play or a bad sitcom re-run that was never funny. A job is just a job. I take care of other people’s children, I’m grateful to have it, but wonderwhy these people do not want to be a part of the daily care of their children. Soon all is revealed to me. It’s become pitch black at 4 o’clock and I feel the darkness engulf me in a sea of sadness and melancholy. I see shrinks, I take meds, I increase my vitimin D. I’m in bed a lot, but feel like I never truly sleep, that I am never well rested. Sweat pants have become my daily uniform, not by choice; it’s as if some part of me has left the building, given up, folded my hand.

Then spring comes and the deep thaw begins. The vice grip on my chest begins to loosen and the haze in my head seems to lift, but my vision is still somewhat cloudy. The additional dose of daylight gives me pause for relief that is indeed letting me know that help is on the way. I begin to sleep less and brave the daylight hours. This misery has gone on far too long and it’s time to snap the hell out of it. I set my alarm, I awake and splash cold water on my face and begin to feel less dead. I try to throw out negative thoughts that attack my mind: “You’re no good.” “You’ll never amount to anything.” “You don’t deserve happiness,” “You haven’t suffered enough,” “You’re old,” “You’re not worthy” and “Just do us all a gigantic favor and go back to bed.” When this occurs I adjust the compass in my head to slightly alter the course and journey out into new waters.

 I return to yoga, think about giving up red meat, and spend more time with Knox out in nature. After a long winter’s nap trapped inside my cave, the brisk air on my face slowly breathes new life into me. I feel an ever-so-slight change as I rebuild the molecules in my body; trying to make myself stronger, better, faster. There is something magical and mysterious that each season brings and life is mirroring those images to me. Seasons change and no matter what (except for the fear of global warming) we know that eventually winter will turn to spring and spring will become summer and there is some sort of security in knowing what will come. We don’t know how cold the temperature will drop or how much damage it may cause to crops, but we do know that it will be colder than the preceding season and the cycle of the life of the seasons will carry on. I keep hearing over and over in shouts inside my head that this too shall pass and I’m thinking this storm in my life will pass, and perhaps soon, I will see the forest through the trees, but I know I have to get out of my way first.

Perhaps it’s as simple as just enjoying your current view or looking in another direction or at another angle for some new perspective….of course, Knox already knows this.