What I get this time of year

I’m catching up on my Google Reader (only 150 more posts to go) after a several day hiatus, and I realized that I must be the only blogger in the whole of the Internets who didn’t do a Thanksgiving Thankful List. Maybe my (almost) daily lists seemed like enough. Or maybe, it’s that time of year when the dark blankets out the light in my life, and I don’t really feel much above flat. Thankfulness is definitely a higher vibration.

It’s been creeping up on me, and last night, after I had a particularly spectacular meltdown in response to Lauren stepping on (and crushing) my one-of-a-kind custom prescription sunglasses (by accident), Steve scooted over to me on the couch and wrapped himself around me and asked if I was OK. I remembered then that I never feel the depression until I’m crushed beneath it. That’s why it’s so hard for me to manage: I don’t see the bud to nip. The flower’s in full bloom before I even notice it’s there.

This morning, I got up and went to Nia, which is a wonderful form of exercise. Dana was the teacher today, and the routine was about being childlike again. I don’t think I’ve been a child since I was about 7, so I had to reach down deep to find her. Parts of the routine caused me to cry, others to laugh. That’s not unusual. I was short-breathed for minutes after class, when I met with a trainer named Clint for a free stretching session. I wish I could afford to see him a few times a week (at $45 a crack) because my body feels wonderful right now. But the elevated mood only lasts so long.

When I got home, I showered and used my lightbox for 45 minutes. Because I’ve been sleeping in, I haven’t used it since Tuesday. Not smart. I’m sure that’s why I’ve been so angry and agitated for the past couple of days. I have exactly one nerve left, I tell you. And it frayed today with Ryan, who was disrespectful and disobedient and made me so angry that I grounded him AND screamed at him (after he screamed at me, telling me I had ruined his life by marrying his dad, and he wished Steve had never met me, and that I am not his mother and he does not have to listen to me. I’m still seething).  Steve was at work. It was not fun. I left him a message about what happened, and he texted back that he was disappointed in ME and that I need to learn to act my age. Icing on the cake I tell you.

Luckily, I had an escape plan. Steve’s Aunt Pat asked me to take her family’s photo for their holiday cards. So I took Lauren with me, and we stopped at Starbucks on the way to Englewood. I know I should find a healthier stress relief mechanism than sugar. But nothing–not a prescription, or a run, or a drink, or a hug, or crying, or shopping, or ANYTHING–feels better than sugar in terms of stress relief. I got the new Caramel Brulee Latte, and it was delicious. I petted Lauren’s hair as we waited in line, and she told me how much she loves me, which made me feel better. I think she tries to protect me from my own moods.

We then spent about 30 minutes taking photos of Pat, her boys and their crazy Wheaten terriers. I love taking photos, so I was up again.

Steve’s text made me not want to go home, but I told Pat I’d process the photos and send them to her tonight so she could order her cards tomorrow. Ryan was asleep when we arrived and Steve wasn’t home yet, I felt relief. I spent an hour processing and emailing. Steve came home and reiterated his disappointment in me, which I am choosing to ignore. I don’t care if he’s disappointed. He wasn’t hear to witness, and I know I was right. He had a long talk with Ryan in the basement, and Ryan kind of apologized. Kind of. I said thank you. I’m still angry, but no longer pissed.

At this point, I feel like the rollercoaster has cruised back to the platform. Today has been a wild ride of emotion, from the near-crying at Nia to the screaming at Ryan to the high of hugging Lauren in Starbucks (who told me she loves me as big as all the universes and galaxies) to the numbness from Steve’s text. If this day had happened in June, I would have handled it all without as much adrenaline or drama. But it’s not June, it’s the end of November. And this is what I get this time of year.