Emergence
Well, it’s official. The Seasonal Affective Disorder which I previously suffered in northern winters has, after eleven years in Florida, become a mirror-image summer malady. One where the environment (and my inability to adapt to it, despite major effort) prevents me from fully living. Where I slowly and inexorably lose my joie de vivre as I forego things that are important to my well-being.
Just as I used to in those gone-but-not-forgotten winters, I start out determined to remain positive. I will think outside the box! I will make the best of being confined to quarters by pursuing unexplored interests! And then weeks and months of unrelenting pummeling by the weather (most recently, weeks of daily heat advisory warnings followed by weeks of unceasing torrential rains, the sound of which I used to find lovely but now is making me mental) erodes my resolve and a low-grade malaise, not quite a depression but a sigh of oh well, creeps in.
There are a couple of fundamental differences between my new affliction and its previous manifestation. First, thanks to finally growing up a bit, I no longer simply rail at the uncontrollable but instead actively take steps to control what I can (chiefly, my attitude). Which means that I will be better prepared next year. I will have an action plan that insures I’m able to continue to live my life in a way that sustains me (getting exercise, connection, filling the well) before things get away from me. And I will never again underestimate the importance of traveling to a different climate for a respite.
The other major difference is my discovery (again, thanks to the rewiring of my brain) that I can remember that this is just temporary. That this, too, like everything else, will pass. And the fabulous news is that this week I can feel the change coming and am almost euphoric at the prospect of resuming my favorite activities.
Aaaand (drumroll), to jumpstart my emergence from what I’ve learned is called estivation, next week I’ll embark on my most reliable rejuvenator: travel. I’m a lucky duck who will travel to London, Amsterdam, and probably parts in between, so this will be my last post until I resume on October 15th.
When I’ll be overflowing with gratitude for yet another fresh start.
Ways I Found Joy This Week
Treating myself to Argentinian takeout
Sharing my heart with a beloved and feeling uplifted
Laughing with the CWP until my stomach hurt
Being greeted enthusiastically by the neighbors (Mom, Dad, and three steppingstone kids, always together, always doing a different outdoor activity, always smiling) to whom I’d previously blurted “you guys are the cutest family!”
Getting zhushed up at the hair salon
Watching TV over a quick meal of KFC at the CWP’s apartment
Things I Learned This Week
That astronauts can grow up to three percent taller in space because weightlessness causes their spines to expand
About Blood Falls, a five story, blood red waterfall that flows from Taylor Glacier in Antarctica
Quotes That Resonated This Week
You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.
Maya Angelou
You can do it like it’s a great weight on you, or you can do it like it’s part of the dance.
Ram Dass
What I Watched This Week
The Perfect Lie (Netflix). Some good twists and a finale that raised a cliff-hanging question.
Disconnect (Netflix). An older (2012) movie in which the lives of various unrelated people overlap online. Great performances, especially by Jason Bateman. Poignant.
Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story (Netflix). Ryan Murphy may be controversial but it’s hard to resist a retelling of the legend. A few episodes in, I’ve got to admit he’s doing a fantastic job.
Bad Mistakes (Netflix). If you liked Schitt’s Creek, this is for you. One impulsive, bad decision leads to a world of trouble for a zany pair of siblings and the rest of their clueless family. Ridiculously funny and a perfect escape.
What I Read This Week
Still reading Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland, by Patrick Radden Keefe. Would love to have him at a dinner party; such a good storyteller.
The One Day You Were My Husband, by Rosie Walsh. Carrie’s beach wedding in Thailand is suddenly swarmed by armed men who arrest her new husband. She reluctantly returns to England and rebuilds her life. Twelve years later, their paths cross again, and we learn that nothing was as it seemed. Solid thriller with a good twist.
Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage, by Belle Burden. Of course I had to read a memoir detailing the overnight implosion of a twenty-year marriage. My review of the book (in contrast to a great deal of what I consider gratuitous disparagement) and my reaction to its story will likely be covered at length in a future post.
Heart of Glass, by Jennifer Hillier. Twenty-five years earlier, a serial killer confessed to killing one of three teen best friends. Now he’s recanting, and the long-buried truth is about to be exposed. Great final twist.
A Guide to Open Water Lifesaving: Lessons on Love, Care, and Survival, by Virginia Eubanks. Memoir of a journalist who became the primary caretaker for her partner after he was brutally assaulted near their home. Honest, heartbreaking account of the tolls of caretaking as well as the cascading horrors of PTSD. Both literary (brilliant device of using open water lifesaving as a metaphor throughout) and journalistic.
***
Thanks for reading!
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