Every year I get this way.
I get in a funk. I get...icky.
Winter is still here. It's still goddamned February, shortest month of the year that somehow manages to feel the longest.
Everything is cold. Nothing is growing or changing. The ground is hard and unyielding.
I hate being cold. I'm sick of being stuck in frumpy sweaters and bulky coats. I'm tired of static electricity zapping me every time I try to pet the cats or touch a light switch. I'm irritated at my dry itchy skin and my sore chapped lips.
I am sick of my own damn self. I am crawling out of my skin.
Everything seems so monotonous and unsatisfying.
The past couple years I've had school to distract me from this feeling. Classes and busy work that I need to plunge into, push through and force myself to move and act. This year? I'm independently working on my thesis. And given my mood, I am lacking in motivation right now to do anything. I am lethargic.
I want to hibernate. I want to hide under my covers and not come out until it's warm and the sun lures me out.
I've been sleeping more lately, going to bed earlier and waking later. My sleep is restless and I wake anxiously in the middle of the night, my pajamas and covers twisted and binding me.
I had a dream last night. I was in England. Kelly was with me. We were sharing a flat. When we opened our windows, the salty smell of the ocean blew in and we were invigorated by it. We sat on our balcony, eating bread and cheese, watching boats pass by on the water. Tree branches hung over us, green leaves gently waving in the breeze. We were talking about boys, Christopher and Brisket, laughing.
I woke up completely disappointed that dream was not my reality.
I get in a funk. I get...icky.
Winter is still here. It's still goddamned February, shortest month of the year that somehow manages to feel the longest.
Everything is cold. Nothing is growing or changing. The ground is hard and unyielding.
I hate being cold. I'm sick of being stuck in frumpy sweaters and bulky coats. I'm tired of static electricity zapping me every time I try to pet the cats or touch a light switch. I'm irritated at my dry itchy skin and my sore chapped lips.
I am sick of my own damn self. I am crawling out of my skin.
Everything seems so monotonous and unsatisfying.
The past couple years I've had school to distract me from this feeling. Classes and busy work that I need to plunge into, push through and force myself to move and act. This year? I'm independently working on my thesis. And given my mood, I am lacking in motivation right now to do anything. I am lethargic.
I want to hibernate. I want to hide under my covers and not come out until it's warm and the sun lures me out.
I've been sleeping more lately, going to bed earlier and waking later. My sleep is restless and I wake anxiously in the middle of the night, my pajamas and covers twisted and binding me.
I had a dream last night. I was in England. Kelly was with me. We were sharing a flat. When we opened our windows, the salty smell of the ocean blew in and we were invigorated by it. We sat on our balcony, eating bread and cheese, watching boats pass by on the water. Tree branches hung over us, green leaves gently waving in the breeze. We were talking about boys, Christopher and Brisket, laughing.
I woke up completely disappointed that dream was not my reality.
3 Comments:
There's always boots.
I happened upon your blog from the wilds of the internet, and I think I'll bookmark you. Smart, funny, self-deprecating. I appreciate that.
I'd also like to respond to this (and the subsequent) blog post more specifically. February is my hardest month, too, so you're not alone in that. It's the desperate, clawing breath of Winter, before she is vanquished by Spring. And it's damned miserable. We are creatures of light; the sun sustains us. Its absence deflates our joy as a balloon too long untended, and the sun is gone for so long in the winter.
Your haircut was a wonderful idea to shake off the weight of the season, but please don't apologize for your feelings.
Aww, thanks Jaye!
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