Saturday, February 28, 2009
I have been SAD since October. Not just sad, but really SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. SAD is depression caused by winter lack of light. When I first heard of SAD years ago, I scoffed. I was derisive. "Another excuse made up by malingerers" I thought. Until my yearly Autumn descent into lethargy, dark thoughts, and constant fatigue became too scary to try to deal with on my own. I finally sought medical help and, depending on the year,I have sometimes required pharmaceutical assistance to get through the darkest days. This is hard to admit.
And if Tom Cruise reads this I will be subjected to a lecture on the evils of antidepressants and the natural joy of Scientology. Yah, Yah, I know what you're thinking: "She is not only depressed, she is delusional if she thinks Tom Cruise reads her blog, or even if he stumbled on it he'd give a rat's ass about her SAD".
But Tom, I don't need Scientology now. While it's true I am still soooo tired, and wake up every morning with ennui, I feel a tiny bit hopeful. Not because I actually feel better, but because I see the signs that assure me I really will feel better soon. Thank goodness I live where the first signs of spring arrive early.
I shot these photos on our walk to the dog park today:
Winter is on the wane. I'm gonna be O.K.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
1. Several times a day I get to go on sizzling tropical vacations. For free!
2. My heating bills are way down.
3. By January 2 I had forgotten what my new years resolutions were. In fact, I forget if I even made any.
4. Getting dressed in the morning is like a fun trip to the casino. Do I bet on my skinny pants because I sweated off 7 kilos of water weight in the night? Or will it be one of those mornings when I'm bloated up like the Hindenburg, and only my husband's trousers will fit me?
5. I've no need to spend big bucks at the spa. I get steam baths many times every night.
6. There is exciting new mystery in my marriage. The mystery is, my husband never knows from one minute to the next whether I will be a weeping mess or a screaming shrew. One thing he can depend on, I will not be the boring, joyful, even tempered woman he first met.
O.K., I realize I have now listed six reasons, not five. I should go back into the title of this post and change the number, in the interests of accuracy. Normally I would. But here's the seventh reason I love menopause: I don't give a shit about accuracy or much of anything else. I am a hot, cranky, depressed, brain-deranged harridan. I celebrate this bitch!
(What else can I do?)
So, my lovely internet friends, leave a comment. I dare you.