the January blues

It was a relief to leave the hospital after having a baby (except the first time, I was mostly shocked that those professionals were sending me home with a new human). I was anxious to get through the transition of having a new baby, which I could only really start in our own home. But there was also a sense of dread as I anticipated the sleepless nights, aching body and breasts. And there’s the actual, clinical sense of dread that accompanies anxiety and depression, the onset of which I always felt as I crossed the threshold from the sliding doors of the hospital into the parking lot. I didn’t want to go back, but I didn’t really want to go forward.

The same kind of feeling, though not as strong and over-powering, comes over me in January. Christ has been born, the shepherds and wise men have dispersed, now the gifts are safely in the care of a little family fleeing for their lives into Egypt. It’s as though my heart is with the Holy Family as they transition from the stable, only they have something real to dread (which they probably didn’t, because they were, you know, holy, and totally trusted in God’s providence). My sense of dread isn’t for something real, like a madman hunting me down (like, Herod); it can probably be explained away with chemical mis-firings in the brain, hormones, or whatever. A piece of it is probably the shorter days, less light and a lot less sun. Maybe it’s the let-down of an exciting Christmas season—joy and stress jumbled together in my mom-brain.

And so the new year looms before me, a stranger: another adventure to live, joys to experience, sorrows to bear, laughter to hear, tears to shed, piles of laundry, loads of dishes, meals to cook, new shoes and coats to buy as those humans keep growing. There are people who are blessed with optimism and are able to look ahead at a strange new world with energy and excitement; I’m just one of those other kinds of people who looks ahead and thinks to herself, Steady the buffs, old girl. I think it’s something like, Hey, didn’t we just wrap up 2018? as though there should be an interim period of nothing-year where time stands still and no one has to do laundry.

In the meantime, regular exercise (or, irregular also has to work) getting a few precious quiet moments to think, the Sacraments, some great reads, old and new tunes, as well as a healthy diet (plus chocolate) all help with the chemical mis-firings and anxiety levels. And putting the year in perspective. (Also, it doesn’t hurt to chase a capsule of Vitamin D with a shot of whiskey.)