There’s a change. There is hope in my heart, a surge of life bursting forth with the coming of spring. Yes it is January, but the days grow long, a minute a day. After 5pm there is still light. The sun moving back our way casts crimson clouds on the horizon swimming in maroons, pinks, and turquoise.
No wonder since September each month became harder, November drowning me in sleeplessness and negativity, December, a time for celebration but having to put on the power switch to see it through. Then, slowly, relief.
Dec. 21st was the shortest day. It makes sense the struggle to stay afloat began to lift in the weeks after. An uplift. Hope. A happy feeling powering me to join an exercise class for those my age, then going!
Brain chemicals adjust to the longer days, starving for the light, soaking it in. Consistent use of full spectrum lights may have helped somewhat, but not like this. A feeling of well-being craved during the shorter days begins to fill me with a wholeness that satisfies grounding my being.