Seasonal Depression is typically associated with post holiday Winter months. The same things that make people unhappy bring me joy. Give me short days, frigid temperatures, people huddling out of my way in their domiciles.
Summer? Oppressive heat and an unrelenting sun beating down its cancerous rays until nine at night. Insects invading everywhere. Rude tourists clogging the roads, which turn my commute into a living nightmare. Corruption in the air, spores in my respiratory system.
I had a mental health setback last week in the form of an emotional dirty bomb of a suitcase which revealef horrifying details of the last painful days of some of my family members. I'll be fine. I always am, but right now I am processing information I'd much rather would have remained undisclosed.
My greatest peace is in sitting in our backyard. Sometimes reading, sometimes merely experiencing the serenity of solitude. Watching birds at our feeders, enjoying the company of our colony of feral cats. Speaking of whom, they suffer in the summer. None of them seem to mind the winter as much. They know what to do and where to go to combat the cold. We have shelters for them.
It's a sin to wish time away, especially as we grow older, but I long for Lady Autumn to put her comforting arms around me. I crave cold air, which to me feels like medicine.
Chopping wood in the winter is enjoyable exercise and I don't have to worry about dropping dead from heat stroke. I love bonfires. Cooking food over the open flames, reading scary stories aloud to Clara on chilly nights, gazing into the fire as I contemplate miracles of the elements.
Cool air brings on thoughts of Halloween, when the rest of the world shares our love of horror. Thanksgiving may be a bullshit holiday, but what's wrong with people taking the time to remember to be grateful and to share good food and good times with loved ones?
What fun would Christmas be without ghost stories?
My funk is going away. Insanity in my family isn't anything new to me. I'm dealing with summer and I am certainly going to enjoy today, the Fourth of July. We plan to cover books and prep them for future sales, and we are going to watch the full-length version of Tobe Hooper's Salem's Lot this afternoon. No cookouts in the blistering heat, thank you very much.
Like everyone else, I endure the hardships life throws my way, and I anticipate better times ahead. I lay my head down to sleep and I drift away to thoughts of wind-blown leaves, hot tea, classic black and white horror movies on frosty nights, and clean, cold, soothing fresh air.
Written by Mark Sieber
Summer? Oppressive heat and an unrelenting sun beating down its cancerous rays until nine at night. Insects invading everywhere. Rude tourists clogging the roads, which turn my commute into a living nightmare. Corruption in the air, spores in my respiratory system.
I had a mental health setback last week in the form of an emotional dirty bomb of a suitcase which revealef horrifying details of the last painful days of some of my family members. I'll be fine. I always am, but right now I am processing information I'd much rather would have remained undisclosed.
My greatest peace is in sitting in our backyard. Sometimes reading, sometimes merely experiencing the serenity of solitude. Watching birds at our feeders, enjoying the company of our colony of feral cats. Speaking of whom, they suffer in the summer. None of them seem to mind the winter as much. They know what to do and where to go to combat the cold. We have shelters for them.
It's a sin to wish time away, especially as we grow older, but I long for Lady Autumn to put her comforting arms around me. I crave cold air, which to me feels like medicine.
Chopping wood in the winter is enjoyable exercise and I don't have to worry about dropping dead from heat stroke. I love bonfires. Cooking food over the open flames, reading scary stories aloud to Clara on chilly nights, gazing into the fire as I contemplate miracles of the elements.
Cool air brings on thoughts of Halloween, when the rest of the world shares our love of horror. Thanksgiving may be a bullshit holiday, but what's wrong with people taking the time to remember to be grateful and to share good food and good times with loved ones?
What fun would Christmas be without ghost stories?
My funk is going away. Insanity in my family isn't anything new to me. I'm dealing with summer and I am certainly going to enjoy today, the Fourth of July. We plan to cover books and prep them for future sales, and we are going to watch the full-length version of Tobe Hooper's Salem's Lot this afternoon. No cookouts in the blistering heat, thank you very much.
Like everyone else, I endure the hardships life throws my way, and I anticipate better times ahead. I lay my head down to sleep and I drift away to thoughts of wind-blown leaves, hot tea, classic black and white horror movies on frosty nights, and clean, cold, soothing fresh air.
Written by Mark Sieber
The author does not allow comments to this entry
No comments