Yeah, Winter and I aren’t friends

Unless you mean the horse at the animal sanctuary where I volunteer. In that case, Winter and I are definitely friends. But Winter gets a large “No, thank you. I’m busy. Being sad. Thanks to you. Turn off the light as you leave.” I’m always a minute away from the depths but winter really kicks it up a notch.

This winter felt especially hard. Though there weren’t feet of snow to slough through or icy rain tapping on the rooftop, the days were still gray and chilly. My bed saw a lot more of me than in other seasons. Buried under fleece and weight and sadness.

I’m not sure why being sad feels so heavy. Why it feels like an actual creature sitting on your chest going, “Nope. Not today. Try again some other time.” How walking feels like pushing through an invisible field.

I laughed really hard at something I saw at one point and realized that I hadn’t laughed like that in what felt like forever.

At one point, I asked my husband, “Has it ever been this bad before?”
And he looked at me, with pain creeping through the bluest blue, and said, “It’s been much worse. And you’ll get through it. We’ll get through it. Just like we have before.”

I feel the fog starting to lift.
My body feels lighter.
My thoughts a little less doomsday.
My mind trying to shift from hopeless to hopeful.

I’m ready to put away the happy light and step into sunlight.

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