It’s January. I say this like I’m shocked, like it hasn’t happened before, like it doesn’t come after December every year. And I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be put off by the fact that I’m craving quiet, and warm and time to myself. I shouldn’t be, and yet I am.
I find myself here every year. Ready to shut down and curl up under the covers and hide till April. But I’m not a bear, I can’t hibernate. And each day as I drag myself out of bed I’m shocked by how cold the floor is, how I never seem to be warm enough. How even the cozy corner where I like to work is now drafty and I wear my winter hat indoors most days.
And there’s never enough coffee or tea or soup to warm me. The calendar is so strikingly empty compared to just a few weeks ago. And as much as I needed the break from the “go,go,go” that was December. I miss knowing that fun is just around the corner.
It’s this time of year that leaves me questioning the decisions I’ve made. The life I’ve chosen. Even though I know I’m perfectly content. I think of Florida, where my parents are and wonder why we didn’t go when we had the chance. I think about this blog and all I want for it and about the novel I haven’t written. And instead of feeling the “It’s a New Year” inspiration that I should feel, I feel disappointed by what is not done.
And when it all becomes a bit much, when I can’t seem to get the quiet I need and my brain keeps thinking of warmer climates and other lives, I pour a glass of wine, turn on the fireplace and lose myself in a book or the bachelor.
Sometimes it’s good to get lost in the winter, even if it’s just for a time, just for a moment.
Do you get the winter blues? And if so how do you cope?