Sunday, February 20, 2011
Perhaps it’s going to be Spring soon. Not outside my window, but in my own heart. It’s definitely been Winter inside my head the past few months. Blizzard conditions. Caught up in a vortex that is flashes of sky as you are engulfed in a white world of snow.
When you’re in it, you don’t see that safety is Right There, or indeed, that you are standing on your front porch.
But anything that required effort? Just the thought became overwhelming – or arbitrarily pointless. It wasn’t so much that I stopped giving a damn; rather that my give-a-damn stopped getting out of bed. Books sat unread, podcasts went unlistened to so long that they stopped updating, yarn porn didn’t thrill. Workouts were something I did because I had to maintain levels and a box of cookies sat on the counter so long they grew mold.
Even people fell to the wayside. Many said “if I can help, let me know.” And, ironically, the one person with whom I have no dialogue was the one person who specifically said “if you want to talk, I’ll listen.” But my own inability to reach out…to say the first word…left me more desperately isolated than ever.
Like most Springs, it started with a song –not of the Tufted Titmouse, rather of the sexy hip swiveling variety-I heard it in the background of a show and was compelled to buy it. Then a UFO began to look enticing again. How could I have forgotten the squish of a handspun Polwarth?
Next a skein of BabyBoom begged to be taken off the wall and cast on, whispering a siren song at me until I did.
So while the situation isn’t any closer to being resolved, and indeed, looks more dire than ever, I am cautiously optimistic that it’s Spring and everything will be okay.