Nineteen seconds…doesn’t sound very long…it’s not very long considering the eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds in a day. But it may be the motivation I need to continue living. Compared to yesterday, nineteen additional seconds of…blessed sunlight. Say it blesssss-eddddd! Nineteen additional seconds as the sun begins its annual climb into the sky, a full minute of glorious sunshine by Wednesday. Overly dramatic? Not at all. The Winter Solstice is once again behind me.
I have a mild case of depression. Mild. I laugh at the thought. Chuckle, chortle, guffaw! Today my depression is mild, like soft spring rains. My mind only slightly fragmented. A thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle fresh from the box fragmented. Only a bit of anxiety as I prepare for Christmas.
Blam! Tomorrow my depression may land like a warm, wet, stinking cow patty from a, particularly tall cow. Unknown sorrows bringing a squirting, diarrheic, torrent of melancholy gloom, doom and despair for no reason at all…other than it just is. Splat…Rumble…Rumble…Rumble…Splat!
Similar to the symptoms of diarrhea, I never know when my depression will hit any more than I know when it will end…I just know it will hit…usually in the darkest hours the winter when sunlight is at a premium. I know not when it will end…I only hope it will end. Oh, glorious sunshine, how I wish to feel your warm caress.
What a quandary…dilemma…predicament. At my age, I shouldn’t be wishing my life away. How many winters do I have left? Yesterday it seems I celebrated a birthday…and here is another…right around the corner. Still…I hate living from a bout of depression to bout of depression. Is it living? Oh sunshine, why have you forsaken me? Bring on the heat, humidity, mosquitos, and longgggggg days of sunshine!
You think my depression might be magnified by the season? I’ve never been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, but you don’t have to be a savant to realize what is going on…summers with mild bouts of depression, winters with “Oh my god, I’m as crazy as an outhouse mouse!” I’m in real trouble, my humor is not even funny to me.
What to do, what to do? The sun is trying to peep above the ridgeline. A walk before church? It’s thirty degrees…ordinarily not a deterrent. Today? My disability is getting in the way…but there’s “gold in them thar hills,” beautiful golden sunshine. Dress warmly, my friends.
For more of Don Miller’s musings or rantings, https://www.amazon.com/Don-Miller/e/B018IT38GM
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