Thursday, October 29, 2015

If it's Fall, I must be SAD

From the archives:

Albrecht Durer: Weeping Angel
Yes, I'm one of those people who gets SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder) I get depressed in the winter, especially at Christmas. Last year I ruined my streak of I don't know how many successive years of being depressed by actually enjoying (that is, finding it more than tolerable) December, Christmas, and winter. This year, it looked like I was going to tank a few weeks ago, but my spirits have been buoyed by all this wonderful sunshine (and infusion of vitamin D) we've been blessed with so far.

Normally, the cold sets in some time in late November, it gets darker earlier, and I (mentally) take a deep breath and hold it in through Christmas until March or April. I feel like screaming, just like Durer's Weeping Angel above. I keep a framed copy of this pen-and-ink angel where I can always see it and I'm grateful for every day that I don't feel as if that represents my soul. But every once in a while during the winter months I point to it to remind my wife that this is how I feel. Yep, I've been known to basically spend two-three months in bed, unable to write. And then one spring day my mood suddenly lightens, clearing up all by itself, and I can function again.

Because of this unpredictable day-to-day existence, I don't usually plan any releases during the winter months, since this entails edits which I am unable to do. Not to mention all the social/promo work involved with new releases. This year proved to be no exception. Last month I was forced to postpone the substantial edits required to get my novella Down By Contact ready for a January release. So that project has now been placed on hold indefinitely, until I can find a spot in my schedule to return to it. I truly appreciate Darlene, at Still Moments Publishing, accommodating me.

So, this is just a reminder that while most of you enjoy the busy cheerfulness of the Christmas season, some of us, through no fault of our own, are unable to fully participate in the joyous season, as much as we wish we could. Do not take it personally. It's not you. We'd much rather be enjoying ourselves than feeling as if we could scream our lungs out for no reason whatsoever.



  1. Barren seems my soul
    as a tree in winter.
    Souls have times of winter too...
    A time of cold, of numbness.
    Beneath the barrenness,
    Old pain is being sloughed off..
    making way.
    The dormant seeds to birth a wiser self must
    emerge out of the fertilized
    residue of the old.

    --written by me Nov 28, 1990

    Kindred spirits :-}

  2. Thank you for sharing your heartfelt poetry, Dody. I truly appreciate it. Great opening line, and I especially love the last line, too: "The dormant seeds to birth a wiser self must/ emerge out of the fertilized/ residue of the old."
    I'll be mulling those words over this winter.


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