Onward and Upward

The first week after holidays is always brutal, but last week was particularly so. My back went out, I paid two visits to the chiropractor, needed a sick day to recover, and finally pulled out of the gloom by Friday. I thought it was me. Turns out that the third week of January is the most depressing week of the calendar year.

Honest. Boy Sister told me so at coffee on Thursday—and it was a revelation.

Think about it. Christmas is over, but the bills are coming in the mail. The cheerful lights have been boxed up for next Christmas, abandoning us to the long, dark winter. New Year’s resolutions are proving too ambitious, so we start to drop them and feel like failures as a result. And I return to work with renewed understanding of why I was so stressed when I left and a plan to regain control of my destiny, but the stressors remain unchanged and my plan requires time to implement so I wind up immobilized—mentally, emotionally and physically.

Truly, I was ready to hang myself mid-week. The string of Philly games probably saved me, despite the dismal duo of shutouts they suffered on Wednesday/Thursday. Then, BS and I spent a few minutes together after coffee with my wee sister, and he told me that we were halfway through the most depressing week of the year.

I immediately felt better. Walking home from the limo stop that same night, I noticed a bunch of snowdrops blooming beneath a garden bush yet glowing with fruitcake lights—an odd juxtaposition that gave me more hope. Then I saw it happening in my own garden: new green buds swelling amid the teeny-tiny blossoms already born. Spring is on the way, I thought with relief. We’ve made it.

I say “we” because poor Ter, who had returned to work on January 5th, suffered more last week than she had the week previous. Yep, the third week sucked, but we’re out of it and on our way to better things. I am also forewarned.

In 2016, I intend to take the whole month off.