The weather has turned. Gone are the beautiful cold, crisp days of a world dusted with icing-sugar frost; the dull, low-cloud, drizzly days have returned to our patch of the West of Scotland.
Life feels hemmed-in, constricted. The clouds, concrete grey and stretching on for miles, are suffocating. It is a week for snuggling up with ridiculous Christmas films and hot chocolate with the curtains closed and the fire on….unless you have SAD, when you’re told to pull on your trainers and get out of the house whatever the weather.
My wonderful counsellor (many years ago now) touched on the possibility of my having SAD as my usual symptoms of depression and anxiety (more common bedfellows than you’d think) worsened considerably as the days got shorter and summer became a memory; though from speaking to friends, unless you have a particularly masochistic love of the stresses of Christmas, a lowering of mood seems to be incredibly common without necessarily needing a diagnosis (in many cases, an additional diagnosis) of SAD.
Getting out of the house is vital for me, I simply cannot bear the days where I have had no fresh air at all, rare though they are. Even a fifteen minute walk to school to pick up Son The Second and walk – chatting about his day – home again can make a dramatic difference to my mood. Friday is cake and coffee day, when we treat ourselves at our favourite little cafe after school, and that has become time with him that I really cherish.
Good, comfy waterproof boots and a decent jacket mean that I can indulge in my longer walks as often as possible, whatever the weather. My favourite jacket is an enormous Seasalt waterproof number that I can fit several layers underneath which I bought for just £15.00 second hand on eBay. It has pockets large enough for my binoculars, phone (for photos) and a notebook if I don’t want to take a rucksack. I set off, usually down past the castle or down the hawthorn path and just take my time, dawdling where I want to, drinking in everything I can see, smell and hear and completely submerging myself in the sensory experience. I look and listen for the little things, the tiny flutters of a wren in the undergrowth, catkins preparing for the spring, a ribbon of lighter sky overhead. Wet and miserable days, I have discovered, can be more full of these tiny glimpses of magic than those heady days of summer when our senses can be so easily overloaded.
Jewels, whatever you deem them to be, shine more brightly in the darkness.
Jewels are at home too, warm and dry and welcoming after a few hours outside. There is a bliss in curling up with a lovely book and a cup of tea in a favourite mug, of leafing through recipe books or even Pinterest for a new comfort-food recipe to try. November is the perfect time for trying a new craft or hobby, and I don’t know what I would do with my hands in the winter without a crochet project to work on. I love to sit and watch something develop and grow in my hands, to become an object of (I hope!) beauty and what I hope will become a cherished gift. I imagine that I am working little glittering pieces of love into my stitches, weaving peace and happiness into what I am making for the recipient, I am never just crocheting.
Of course, there is one major event coming up in just under a month that we dare not forget – and I know that Christmas can be an awful time for those of us with anxiety and depression as well as those of us who are alone, who have suffered a bereavement, for those whose families are less than perfect, and those who are battling addictions. Many of the issues, I believe, are not helped by the modern commercial Christmas which demands more, more, more from us each and every year and, for some, the desire to have the ‘perfect’ Christmas for our social media followers to drool over. Let’s call this out for what it is – big companies selling you stuff from sweatshops you don’t need, creating rubbish we can’t compost or recycle, and trying to make you feel unworthy / like a rubbish parent / a failure if you don’t fall for every new fad (Christmas jumpers, matching pyjama sets, Elf on the Shelf or ‘Christmas Eve boxes’, anyone?) the corporations want you to fall for and spend cash on.
It’s a deep and complex issue and not one for this week but I might come back to it next week, as it’ll be better than talking about politics like everyone else.
This year my Christmas is going to be modest, slow, and filled with people I love. Tell me about yours. Are you having a slower winter this year?
Staying here now... 