On taking stock of life....

Thanksgiving, much like the dreaded Valentines Day, is a day when the retail industry seems to prey on our overly-consumerist brains. We spend tons of cash on food, to say the very least, and Black Friday...well, let's not even go there.

People tend to rag on Valentines Day quite a bit for being a consumer driven man-made holiday designed to guilt us into buying expensive chocolates, flowers, and jewelry to prove to that we love someone. I, for one, used to be adamantly opposed to Valentines Day. Unfortunately, I did not have a good reason. I just was. But then, after finding someone who could make me like Valentines Day for all the traditional hullabaloo (yes, I get flowers every year), I began to think differently about the day.

We all lead very busy lives. None of us seem to have enough time in the day to manage all the things we need to do and people we need to see. I have three calendars for three different parts of my life and I still can't seem to keep everything straight (though I do manage to keep a good portion of it under control). So isn't it kind of nice to have that automatic reminder every year on February 14th to tell the people in our lives that we love them?

Sure, sure. We should tell people we love them every day. But honestly, the only person who gets a daily "I love you" from me is my husband. That leaves a substantial portion of the people in my life to whom I definitely do not say that to often enough. While Valentines Day has taken a romantic tone, there's no reason that we shouldn't be reminded to say "I love you" to everyone that day.

The same is true of Thanksgiving. A holiday that's riddled with tradition, at least in my family, is also a good excuse to take stock of the things for which we are thankful. I was challenged by a friend to try to find something to be thankful for each day this month. Some days were easier than others, that's for certain. But I have a hard time believing that any of us could go a single day without finding something to be thankful for. Even on the hardest, darkest days of this year, there has been a glimmer of thankfulness (even if it was hard to find and I really had to hunt it down).

We should be thankful for many things every single day. Thanksgiving is just a good reminder of that...even if you spend the entire day drugged up on tryptophan, watching football (which is what I usually end up doing).

If you enjoyed this post, Follow this Blog or subscribe (below) to receive updates.

On being SAD....

I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Winter is, without question, the worst time of year for me. This is not surprising or new information for anyone who knows me. I survive the first half of winter through the knowledge that Christmas is coming which means baking and parties and music and general excitement are well on their way. I survive the latter half of the season through the knowledge that spring and summer are mere weeks away.

When I first found out I had SAD, I muddled my way through it by going to a tanning salon every day at lunch for a few minutes of my ever-needed UV rays. For many years of my life, I was a bronzed goddess not in the dead heat of July, but in the blizzards of January. The humor in that is another thing that helped me get through the winter season.

For a long time, I never told anyone why I was a) so damn depressed for four to five months out of the year or b) why I was so incredibly tan (thereby leaving myself open to the scrutiny of vanity). Anytime someone asked how I was doing, I would typically respond with, "I'm okay...just ready for winter to be over." The reaction was (and remains, to this day), "What?! I love winter! Winter is great! How can you hate winter? You're from Colorado!"

I hated that reaction. I hated it because no one knew why I hated winter so much and I really had no interest in telling anyone WHY I hated winter. I still hate that reaction. The first big snow of the season is rough on me. The time change makes it worse (though, mercifully, this year both happened pretty close to each other so it's been a little easier).

About five years ago, I finally started telling people why I was so depressed during the winter and why I hate the season so much. All my friends know that I live for Christmas, so I'm sure it was a bit of a relief to finally understand why I was so schizophrenic about winter. I'll never forget where I was or who I was with the first time I really opened up about what is "wrong" with me. See, all of my friends (my husband included) really love winter, cold, snow, all that jazz. I'm pretty much the only one that would rather have it be 85F and blazing hot than have to deal with layers of clothing and scraping my car, blah blah blah.

I remember getting a card from some of my girl friends shortly after letting everyone in on my SAD secret, reminding me that they'd be on my case to get me out of the house and that it was going to be their mission to make me enjoy winter (one friend actually got me to enjoy small-ish roadtrips recently so I have faith that she can work the winter idea).

Winter is still torture for me. I still hate it. Looking out my window right now, there's nothing but hazy fog and cold. And wind. Gross.

But winter is becoming a warmer and warmer time of year for me, thanks to the community I've surrounded myself with and engaged in. It's what I love so much about being in community. It's the place where we can lean on each other at our weakest and celebrate at our strongest. Contrary to what Simon & Garfunkel would have me believe, I am not a rock. I am not an island. None of us are, if we're completely honest with ourselves. I have always believed that we, humans, are designed to be in community. It wasn't up until very recently, however, that I really started believing that for myself. The beauty (and often, the challenge) of being in community is being able to admit when we need help. In it's purest and most basic form, community is the place where we all have needs and we all have something to offer. We don't trade bread for meat anymore, or clothing for milk. Rather, we trade jokes for laughter and dinners for togetherness. I can buy just about any physical "thing" I want. What I can't buy, and what I desperately need my little community for, is those very intangible and very necessary "things": laughter, comfort, peace, understanding, conversation.

I need my friends and my community every day of every year. But when I need them the MOST, they are ever present, ever ready. They know that I just need a little nudge (and a cute pair of winter boots) to get me out the door, into the cold to be with them when they are at their best and I, at my absolute worst.

That is the essence, I believe, of true community and true friendship. Knowing that where one of us ends, another can pick us up and keep us going...it's a perfectly lovely way to live life. We fill in each others gaps. We are wonderfully broken individuals for whom togetherness has provided a safe place to be put back together, in whatever tiny ways we can do that.






If you enjoyed this post, Follow this Blog or subscribe (below) to receive updates.