It’s nine o’clock Sunday morning. The sun is shining with the gentle reminder that she isn’t what she used to be; that fall is on the way. The evenings have shifted from a simple relief from the heat to another world all together—a world filled with visible breath, seat warmers and thin jackets. When Pumpkin Spice entered the conversation, it was only because Mr. Sun-Tan Lotion had returned to the medicine cabinet, where he winters with his wife Vera, aloe Vera. The end is neigh, and I eagerly (and silently) anticipate the snow, just to see what’s going to happen.
One of the silent navigators in my life is the weather. I’m one of those people immediately affected by the weather. Seasonal depression, coupled with my regular depression, has almost taken me out several times in the past. This last January was the worst it had ever been for me. It took eight months afterward, but I finally got help and now I feel like I’ve already started building my defense against this winter. It’s comforting, but it’s also highly intriguing to me what the winter will be like on this medication. Snow fucks with my brain something fierce; sometimes I think I wasn’t meant to live in Northern Alberta, what with how bad it’s always been for me—but this year, I welcome it.
The reason I’m digging this medication so much is because I still feel like a human. I still get upset, I still feel sadness, I can still cry, I can feel elation—it’s all just so much more balanced. I’ve not been robbed of anything. Come that late-stage winter, I’ll be very interested to see if these softer landings hold.
I’m unfocused this morning. It’s ten now, and I have plans in a few hours. It’s werid for me to step back and objectively look at my behaviour now—I always seem to have plans, whether it’s apparent to me or not, there’s always something happening with me. Though, it could feel this way because I’ve started prioritizing my writing as “something to do,” instead of “something to do when I’m not doing other things.” Since that eighteen-hundred-word post, trying to self-pep myself up, I’ve been just kind of burning at these daily posts. They’ve been a great motivator to get me into the chair, but it’s time to harness it into something else.
I need to start using these little sessions as my launch pad. I’ll never finish a story or write a book if this is the only writing I do in a day. I used to do this thing called Daily Pages where, every morning, I’d sit down, and hand write three pages in my notebook. Honestly, the writing was exactly what I’m doing here, just private and on paper. But the entire purpose of that exercise was to “blow the cobwebs out” and get your mind in that writing state, so you can bring the thunder later. With these posts, all I’ve been doing is blowing the cobwebs out to make room for new ones.
And with that, I’ve hit five-hundred and now I’m going to go write something else before I have to leave for the day.
See you tomorrow.