My hibernation mode set in at its expected time – in early-mid November – right around when the temperature really dropped and Daylight Savings Time fucked up all the parents’ lives. Whose brilliant bust of an idea was that, anyway? But hibernation mode is cool, it’s chill. My body moves slower. More time at home, less partying with friends. More blankets and ramen and movie nights. Games. Sleep. The sleep is different – there’s more and it’s deeper. Sometimes drool. All good things.
Until we start approaching Thanksgiving, and I can begin to feel the steady drip of adrenaline enter my veins. It makes its way through my body and swirls around in my brain. And the drip doesn’t shut off until New Year’s Eve, once the ball has dropped (or, our version of the ball drop which was a living room balloon extravaganza that took place at 9:48 PM – Erna promptly put herself to bed after that). This brand of adrenaline doesn’t feel natural – it’s synthetic, for sure. Concocted by socialized pressures and internal mind drama. It pushes me through the planning, the preparation, the execution, the cleanup – wash, rinse & repeat – three times over from the middle of November through the end of December. Then crash and burn. What a fucking nightmare.
And I know my mood is due, in part, to that. To the blood sugar spikeanddropandspikeanddropandspikeanddrop in such a small timespace. I do my best to temper it – shoot myself up with emotional insulin, try to find and savor the moments of genuine joy. But, fuck man – it’s tough. The dreary MN weather we’ve been having isn’t helping either. It’s been damp and gray and sad looking outside. That kind of chill that crawls deep into your bones and won’t release out of you without a scalding hot shower followed by a quick towel off and an immediate full-body dress including the coziest of hoodies and joggers and knee-socks. And a beanie. Skip the lotion. Not today, man, not today. 32 degrees with overcast skies and high humidity is so much more challenging than a dry 15 degrees with a sparkly snow crust and bright sunshine and air that burns your lungs.
I’m quite good at acknowledging my moods and just telling people –
Don’t mind me – I’m bitchy.
The discomfort on people’s faces is palpable – no one likes to hear anything other than “I’m good. Doing good.” Some laugh me off, others make suggestions for how to fix my mood. Those are usually the people I love but also want to fucking roundhouse. Talk about compound emotions. I don’t want to be fixed; I’m not broken. If I didn’t have moods, then I’d be fucking broken – I’m not in the market for a positivity lobotomy. Right now, I’m bitchy, and I just wanna be bitchy. I still go to work every day, hit the gym once in awhile, snuggle my daughters – I even fucking laugh.
During my reiki session I had last week, my reiki master, Brooke Wegner – Peace and Love Reiki – told me she saw a horse. And in her book of spirit animal references there was this line: “Black Stallion said ‘I am from the Void where Answer lives. Ride on my back and know the power of entering the Darkness and finding the Light.’” This resonated with me. Brooke suggested I “lean into the darkness”. I think that means I should take more naps, and the bitchiness will eventually subside. I just love her.
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Rachel Lewandowski