It happens every year, sometime in November. A fog descends on my soul and I feel my way through it for several weeks.
I hate that this happens to me, because at my age there aren't that many more days allotted to me; it's a shame to spend any of them in a fog.
I'm sure I've suffered from S.A.D. all my life, although as a small child the prospect of Christmas gifts, candy, fruitcake, Christmas lights and assorted nuts kept it at bay. After all, it was all about me and what I was going to receive.
Later on, Christmas revived my spirits because we had two children who brightened up the season. Then it came to the point where Christmas actually added to the depression because we were spending money we didn't have to buy things for people that they didn't need or even want. We checked out of that, and now we've given up gift-giving altogether.
I know there are special lights for people with seasonal depression to sit under, and that those are supposed to help; but because this is such a temporary thing, I muddle through. I make a point of getting outside every day. Sunshine does wonders. The hot tub helps, too. I normally don't try to call attention to my plight, and I don't talk much about it, even to Cliff, because it really does no good. I know it will pass. I'm not clinically depressed or suicidal.
Farmville (on Facebook) diverts my attention. I became bored with it last June and totally gave it up, but I'm once again a master farmer. Right now I've started a co-op where people join me in raising rice and cranberries for sweet sake in my winery, and we're racing the clock going for the gold; I'm also seeking vehicle parts for a wonderful machine that will allow me to harvest my crops, plow the soil, and plant new crops in one click.
I know. I should get a life. And I will, in a couple of months: I'll be looking through seed catalogues and planning the garden; I'll be out with my camera, checking all the trees for buds.
I'm taking this time to let my readers know that if my entries seem uninspired there is a reason. I don't intend to mention S.A.D. here again, at least not until next year.
My mood will start improving on New Year's Day: I love beginnings.