It’s back. January. No matter how hard I try to skip this month, it always comes back to haunt me. I hate it. Well, maybe that’s too strong of a word. I strongly dislike it. Very strongly. But since I don’t get my pick of months, there’s no skipping it.
My husband threatens every year to ship me off to Arizona for a month to stay with my brothers. I’m not sure if that’s because he thinks the sun will be brighter there or if he just thinks my brothers are better prepared to deal with my grouchiness. Probably a little bit of both.
Here’s the thing. I have this job. It requires me to stay put during January…in fact, it’s usually one of my busier months since we have new students starting up in a few weeks. So this busyness should keep my mind off the fact that it is January…dark…dreary…cold…snowy…in general, a yucky time of year.
About 10 years ago, I realized I’m part of a club. I didn’t ask to join this club; in fact, if I had my way, I would not join any clubs. But there it is….a club one is assigned to whether one likes it or not. It’s called SAD (seasonal affective disorder), which very simply translates to winter depression or winter blues. There are those who claim this is bunk.Well, bully for them.
Fortunately, I’m in good company. I share this with my husband, a child, several friends, and probably a whole slew of others.
You’d think by now I’d be ready for this…but no. Every year it sneaks up on me like a nasty cold. It hangs around and around until about the end of February when the world lightens up. The sky lightens earlier in the day and the night sky darkens later in the evening.
So out come the magic lights…those bright, luminous boxes that deliver the elixir of energy. Sit in front of one of these every day and you’ll smile through the darkness. Add an even more magical wake-up light that is said to align “the body’s circadian rhythms that regulate normal sleeping and waking patterns”.
Okay, so I might not bound out of bed but slowly waking up to this pseudo sunshine makes getting up easier. And my husband might not ship me off to AZ to face Big Brother.