I hate the cold I feel in my joints. I hate the long, long nights. I hate the gloomy overcast skies. I hate that I know people who live outside in this, and that every year, some of them die because of it.
And mostly, I hate it because every year it makes my depression worse.
I haven’t written much about my mental health here lately. You may recall that back in the Fall I went back on meds to help manage my depression. And mostly, it is working. It isn’t magic, but it makes the lows not as low, and gives me distance from the storm. And this winter, it may have saved my life.
Every winter, I battle depression. The weather, the aches from the cold, the darkness, the way it impacts my work and the people I love… it is all just too much for me. A look back at my logbook tells me that January and February have traditionally been the worst.
So I know it will be bad, and I brace myself for it. But this past summer, usually my highest point of the year, I was seriously depressed. And if that had been my starting point going into the winter, I am not sure I would have made it through the winter.
So thank God for meds, doctors, and the promise of Spring.