Hot and sunny September seemed much like a continuation of summer, only with the addition of school buses and homework. October was lovely -- the warm temperatures, the red and gold leaves against glorious blue skies, the wedding. All was well, my mood was expansive, life was deliciously good.
Then November arrived and bit me on the ass.
I have SAD -- Seasonal Affective Disorder -- and while many people get sluggish and grumpy and blue in the winter, I succumb to despair.
I sleep upwards of ten hours a day. I isolate myself from everyone.
I crave sweets. I become convinced that this moment -- right now-- is the nadir of my existence, and that nothing will ever get better. Ever.
I have full-spectrum sun lamps. I have meds. I have books that reassure me that I am not the only one who feels this way. I have the myth of Persephone, which I find strangely comforting. I have my daughter, who understands.
But already I ache for springtime, and the sun.