Winter Blues


Ah, November. Darkness, Donald Trump, and national dilemmas (we have our own crisis here, a perceived threat to an age-old tradition)*. Dreary, gray days with no sun. What I would give right now to be on a boat in the Bahamas, preferably post-op, surrounded by happy people and drinking white rum with lime juice, soda and mint.

Although I did fetch a bottle of Black Label to celebrate getting my new passport, (I was eighteen all over again), there is no escape from the darkness that has now made itself comfortable in our 05:00 PM to 09:00 AM world and will remain there until March. Reflecting and magnifying the shadows in our own hearts and minds.

There is an increased tension to the darkness for me, an anxiety – and I´m hardly the only one. Those who suffer from some type of winter blues or diagnosed seasonal affective disorder (SAD), might be more prone to worrying, and like me, wonder if they will make it to the other end of the tunnel, to the sunny and happier days.

Maybe I should be more optimistic.  I mean after all a plethora of things changed this year. I recovered, for the most part, from CRPS (Chronic Regional Pain syndrome). My feet have healed up to 85%. I came out to my family. I changed my name. I started testosterone. All within one year, more than others can sometimes expect.

There´s still a shadow in me. I am trying to make peace with my old life. A life in which I dealt with pain by inflicting it on myself. By receding, withdrawing, being a silent observer on the sidelines. By sitting on the side of a mountain ledge, watching the stars, listening to the wind rustling through the pine trees. Disengaged.

Winter time makes it easy to do that. To escape into a narrow world of melancholy. It´s probably not the best way to deal with my troubles, not any more – not after so much has changed. So I´ll try to keep myself on the move, blood flowing, to keep myself from stagnating and becoming rigid; to keep from over-thinking.

* The tradition I am referring to is called Sinterklaas and has been a thing for centuries. In recent years it has been challenged as possibly being racist or based on archaic stereotypes introduced during colonial times.


2 thoughts on “Winter Blues

  1. I’ve found the further I go, the less patient I’m becoming. I keep telling myself that I can’t play the music up to speed yet, and if I do, it will get jumbled. I think recounting the recent victories, though the novelty wanes, is a good practice. Also, for me purposeful, quiet, reflective, daily self-care is essential. For example, I spend time every night stretching on the floor, listening to soft music. I spoil my feet with Cedar and Saffron cream. I like to repeat mantras and oddly, even spend time looking at myself in the mirror to remind myself how far I’ve come. Sounds weird I know. But it helps a great deal. Anyways… I’m sorry you go through some of those very difficult afflictions. That is rough, and my heart goes out to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I´m not less patient now, but my physical dysphoria, from time to time, is unbearable. The winter magnifies my feelings of anxiety; the perfect recipe for a mental break. Spending time thinking about what´s positive is absolutely important. Stretching sounds good. Have you heard of the Tibetan Rites? They are helpful too. I usually listen to soothing mantras, mostly root sounds, to try and stay grounded.


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