It’s gotten to be that time of the year where all I want to do is sleep for a few months. Nothing sounds interesting; everything feels like an unsurmounable amount of work.
This is pretty normal for me now. I’ve lived in Seattle for several years now, and I know it’s due to the lack of sun. I’ve gotten around it in the past: there’s turning up the heat at night so the bedroom is warm enough for getting out of bed naked to not feel like a deadly mistake, there’s the giant sun lamp, there’s vitamin D supplements. There’s weed. And there’s finding excuses to go somewhere warmer for a few weeks.
But my best excuse – visiting my mother around Christmas – is gone now. And my mailbox is a regular reminder of the fact that she’s gone. And that makes me feel even more like shit.
And that little voice that suggests ‘suicide’ as a solution to this overall problem keeps on popping up in the back of my brain. It can fuck right off. I got over my father’s death without listening to that idea, and I’ll get over my mother’s death too. But it sure doesn’t help my overall mood to have to regularly roll my eyes at the part of my brain that thinks this is a good plan.
Another little voice keeps on saying “upgrade your computer” but really it’s not time yet, my tricked-out 2013 Air does everything I need. The only things I’d want are a higher-res display and a bigger HD, and I’d have to switch to a heavier Pro for that. I also know that consuming isn’t going to make me any happier.
And then there are the little self-reinforcing loops like the way being depressed means I’m much more likely to eat something cheap and pre-packaged that’s lacking in all kinds of nutrients and vitamins my body needs to keep working well, which leads to me feeling mopy and useless and depressed.
Upon reflection, maybe I need to plan some kind of trip somewhere warm, even if it’s just me going down to LA for a week or something. Get some sun.