Sunday, February 04, 2007

February's Icy Kiss

While some people report that their moods tend to shift predictably with the seasons, I've found that mine generally don't. I can be depressed in July and happy as a pig in shit in November. But that being said, for some reason, February is generally a tough month for me. It's as though the chill of winter has finally insinuated itself into my moods, leetching the warmth of joy from my heart and draining the laughter and happiness from me until all that's left is the shadow of my smile. My mood is as messy as my thoughts as everything blurs together in a stew of malcontent. It's as if all my failed aspirations find that February is an appropriate time to take out their wrath, to remind me of the failure of my ambition and intelligence, to point and laugh at the decay of my dreams.

When I was in Phoenix, the dangerous undertow of February lost a great deal of its sway because in the desert, February is a month to be spent outside before the sun starts to burn your skin, instead of warming it. But up here by the Great Lakes, February is a month to draw the curtains and shut the outside world away, to huddle inside with a cup of hot chocolate instead of tromping around outside bundled up like a modern-day mummy because flesh exposed to the elements for more than five minutes turns red and stings from the bitter cold. That divorce from nature is hard on me, I think. And without winter sports to persuade me to combat the elements for an afternoon of fun, I'm stuck inside where my gloom seems to thicken the air. I seem to spend the entire month in search of distractions, telling myself that March will be warmer and even if it isn't, I'll have the NCAA tournament, spring break and the promise of spring to distract me once more. Of course, in February, such thoughts are depressing. Why should I require distraction from my own existence to survive? I dunno. I haven't quite figured it out yet.

Without the safety net of my meds, I find facing February a bit more daunting than it was last year. I keep wondering if every moody hiccup is just one step down or if I've unwittingly stumbled off the edge of a precipice and I'm doomed to keep falling until I discover whatever new horrors await at the bottom of what might as well be an endless chasm. Gee, aren't I feeling optimistic this morning? :)

I hope that my mind will clear by the end of the month. I feel like I'm anchored in a thick fog and I have this irrepressible need to describe the view beyond. It's frustrating.