Winter Sleep

 

I think sometimes I was really meant to be born a bear. Strictly for the whole hibernation thing. I don’t know how anyone is supposed to stay awake most of the time when it’s so cold and snowy outside.

In addition to craving piles of blankets and long sleeps when it’s cold, my mood tends to drop severely in the winter, and I know I’m not alone in this. The decline begins sometime around Thanksgiving, with a slightly buoyant rebound phase around Christmas (Lights! Music! Giving gifts! Wheeee!) But then the day after Christmas comes, with that nowhere/nowhen week existing between Christmas and New Year’s Day and I get lost somewhere in there.

If I’m lucky, in the weeks following I can devote enough of my scattered attention when I am awake towards art and writing; if I get too depressed, though, I can’t rally the strength of will to do much of either. That’s where I’ve been for a while. It causes me to doubt myself as a creative person, and makes me long for times past when mania would drive me to write all night long and there were no medications reigning those impulses in.

I know, though, going back to the way it used to be isn’t an option. My health would suffer too greatly, and the price to be paid for those long manic phases is too high. Not just for me but also for those I love. So I’ve struggled through many winters (and springs, and summers, and autumns…) to find a balance somewhere creatively where I can make things that bring me some sense of accomplishment but don’t set alight the fragile rope bridge upon which I balance my existence.

"Winter" 12X12 acrylic on canvas, painted last week.

 

Social media is a challenge, as well, during this time when every instinct I have is telling me to withdraw from all social contact… something my therapist is opposed to for obvious reasons. It’s not healthy not to connect with people somehow, and with my bad health (physical and otherwise) online is where my socialization, such as it is, has to take place. 

It would be nice to have some ‘in person’ friends I suppose, someone with whom, when there wasn’t a pandemic, I could browse a bookstore with or go for lunch with now and then. The problem is I have so little energy to invest in life in general with the pain levels I live with that I fear I’d make a pretty awful friend.

Long ago, back when I had ‘in person’ friends, I had to often cancel plans because of pain and chronic illness. I get tired from long phone conversations, even texting can wear me out quickly at my normal pain levels. When I’m at ultra-high pain levels? Forget it and call me a hermit. My solitude becomes my survival.

I care deeply for my online friends though, despite (or more correctly, because of) all of this. I wish I could give them more than I can but I try to support, encourage, and cheer on as I’m able. I hope those interactions bring something of value to the online world in general; telling others "I see you, I hear you, I will hold space for you if you need it, to the best of my ability."

My doctor has just tweaked my meds after a long time of staying at the same levels of everything, and I am desperately waiting and hoping to see if this change will start chipping away at the iceberg of depression I find myself stranded on.

Thank you to all of the dear, kind friends I have on the bird app, who have thrown me more lifelines than they know. I appreciate you, I adore you, and I hope I can do the same for you when you just need to know someone is out there and hears you.

I hope your winter is cozy and filled with moments you want to remember.

I’m sending love, love, love out into the sky…

~bru