It happens every November: daylight savings time comes to an end and it gets dark shortly after lunch. The days are gray and foggy and drab. The light never changes from morning 'til night. And Seasonal Affective Disorder reaches out and grabs me.
I have a Happy Light, and I take large doses of Vitamin D. But I still struggle with depression every winter. I used to burn a scented candle to brighten up the house just a little more, but since my husband retired a few years ago I had to stop that, because he can't stand the smell of scented candles, not even the ones that smell like food. I need to find unscented jar candles somewhere.
I would love to be able to live in the South all winter, but I can't afford that. Thanks to Covid, I probably won't even be able to go visit someone in the South for a week.
A couple of days ago I drove my husband to an appointment. I drove through a heavy rainstorm, and even saw some lightning. I actually found the heavy rain to be less depressing than fog. Rain has life to it, somehow, while fog and low clouds just seem dead.
To add to my low state of mind, my adult daughters are having a feud. Each of them wants me to take their side, but I can't do that. If I did, the other one would feel betrayed. They are going to have to work this out by themselves, possibly with the help of a professional counselor. I would be willing to be present for that if they wanted me there for some reason, but I'd rather keep out of it as much as possible.
So there will be no complete family gatherings for the holidays. It makes me sad, but there isn't anything I can do about it.
When one of my adult children starts to complain about their life, and how awful it is, or what mistakes we made as parents, I sometimes ask them if they would rather I hadn't gotten married and hadn't given them birth. I don't think they like that response, but sometimes they sound like they wish they didn't exist. They grew up with both parents present, a hard-working father who was a good provider, a mother who willingly gave up a lot to homeschool them for 20 years, plenty of food to eat, plenty of clothes to wear, plenty of toys and games to play with, and an endless supply of books to read. They had friends to play with, and relatives to visit, plenty of field trips to interesting places. There was no physical abuse. There was lots of love. Their dad and I were not perfect parents, and their childhood was not perfect, but we did the best we could with the knowledge we had. I wish they could be more grateful and less critical.
This rant is undoubtedly the result of S.A.D. combined with an intense afternoon which included an hour with my counselor, 2.5 hours talking with one daughter, and half an hour of conversation plus lots of texts with the other daughter. I am completely drained, physically and emotionally exhausted. I wish I could fly to Hawaii and leave no forwarding address.
