Fog

I hate this time of year.

It’s dark. It’s cold. I have no energy, no desire to eat like a normal human being who has to fit into a wedding dress in seven months, and the local radio stations are starting to play non-stop Christmas music. Yay…

Thank G-d for audiobooks and podcasts.

Normally I can get through the dark and gloom of early winter with a (slightly) better attitude than the one I am displaying right now, but this year I just can’t.

Hanukkah was extra early this year, so the opportunity to set things on fire for eight days in a socially acceptable manner has come and gone, we are heading into year two of this damn pandemic, and my beautiful, cranky, nineteen year old cat died the other day.

I am sad and cranky and tired.

Work is alternately stressful and boring, which in itself is stressful, my house is a mess – this is not new; my house is always a mess, and I could really use a vacation somewhere warm and sunny where no one can see me in a bathing suit. I am not holding my breath on that happening, though. (See previously mentioned pandemic.)

I am tired of coming home every day to the exact same things needing to be done – make the bed, empty and reload the dishwasher, wipe down the counters, do the laundry, walk the dog. (On that last one, the dog is adorable and soooo happy to get outside for his excursion, so that helps.)

Since I can’t go on that nice, sunny vacation, I would be happy to have a day where I come home from a day of work where I haven’t wanted to hit anyone to find the house reasonably picked up, the bed made, the dishes and laundry where they should be, and dinner in process of being made by someone who is not me so I can go take a nice, long bubble bath. But since everyone else who lives in this house (other than the pets) has a schedule like mine, if not busier, I don’t see this happening. So I need to find other coping mechanisms.

Normally, when I get like this, I exercise, which helps take the edge off and buoys my mood enough so I can make it through this unbearably gloomy time of year.

But what about this year has been normal, you ask? Nothing.

Instead of long walks or quality time on the elliptical trainer, I now get to do PT exercises and weird stretches on the edge of my sofa to make sure my IT band doesn’t go out on my again like it did after a lovely long stroll on Columbus Day weekend. (I could barely walk for nearly a month. On a scale of one to ten, I rate it at about a negative 3. I don’t recommend it highly to anyone.) This has unfortunately been leaving food as my de-stresser. Which, while delicious, is not at all helping with my self-image and just makes me feel more stressed out.

It’s kind of a vicious cycle.

I don’t want people to tell me everything’s going to be okay, and that soon I will feel more like myself again. I actually just want to feel more like myself again.

I am hoping that once the solstice hits and we start getting back more sunlight, I will unwind a bit. Preferably a lot. I am really not enjoying feeling like this.

In the meantime, I am going to focus hard on not eating all the chocolate chips in the freezer. At least not all right now.

That may be the best I can hope for.

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