THE LOST AND THE BLAH

Recently I had a lost day—a blah day. No energy, no enthusiasm, not really quite conscious. I felt as if I were under the skin of life, observing but not observed.

It should have been a regular day (I hesitate to say normal). I had my Today List—called and canceledtwo appointments because roads were too icy for my taste; sidewalks were broken hips waiting to happen. Okay—that meant two fewer commitments and those were rescheduled. Subject closed. Freed up some time, right? Good thing, right?

Then why didn’t it turn out to be a good thing to have extra hours?

I have to be honest here. I have WIPs (remember those? Works in Progress?) eyeing me every time I walk through my fabric and yarn areas. A couple extra hours are a huge gift. Think of the possibilities: a quilt farther along on its way to the recipient, an afghan closer to becoming a friend’s gift to her husband (she made more than half the sampler blocks, and my knitters and my daughter and I made the rest).

There were letters to write—a couple of gigantic emails filled that bill; new books to read—finished one, read a couple pages in book 2 of the series, and gave up.

Right then I should have caught on. When I don’t want to read, I’m on shaky ground.

The culprit? Mid-winter depression. The one that happens when spring is merely a word in the dictionary and has no relation to nice weather, tweety birds, and green stuff poking its head up through the ground for a look-see.

I know we’re only 16 days from the first day of spring. But that lost day was midwinter in my soul. (As an aside—do you know how many hibernating animals there are? I don’t either, but I wished I was one.)

From the distance of 48 hours, I’m beginning to see how it came about:

·         Gloomy weather: clouds, rain, sleet, freezing rain, icy conditions

·         Another day in the cabin (cabin fever doesn’t hit me until I’ve been cooped up for more than four days)

·         Remembrance of six warm days in Arizona

·         Dread of Daylight Savings Time (see last year’s post in early March—I don’t ever want to talk about it again; a good long snarl is very satisfying, though)

So here was the challenge—what’s to celebrate about a day like that?

Well, for starters, I’m still alive. I’m doing things I enjoy (when I’m not in a snit), some for myself (reading new authors, finding new TV series to watch) and some for others (playing the organ, knitting and sewing).

Best of all, my life is filled with people who bring me joy, challenge me to think, like my company. We may not see each other in person, but we have lively email exchanges.

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No doubt another blah day will come. They’re not once-in-a-lifetime events. But I know, as surely as they come again, they’ll go away.

I don’t wish you a blah day, or a midwinter depression, or sadness of any kind. But when one of them catches up to you, I wish you courage and strength to ride it out, find a tiny silver thread in the cloudy day, and spend a little time communing with yourself. You may be surprised. Or, you may surprise yourself.