The Heavy Sad / No Cheer Found Here Today

This winter has been hard. Dark, cold, wet and relentless. Every year, it steals my joy. Just sucks the life right out of me, and all I want to do is get under the covers and sleep the sad away. Most days, I'm able to fight back. Muster some courage, keep the candle lit, force a smile until it finds something to latch on to. Most days I'll even laugh. The darkness is there, tugging at me, but most days, it's not all there is.

Then there are days like today. My body weighs a millions pounds, like my veins are filled with wet cement. I stare at nothing, and hope no one comes looking for me, because a single question can take minutes to reach my brain. And finding the answer is an underwater sprint, and halfway to the finish line I forget where I'm going or why. My face is frozen in a downward turn, and I'm aware of how unattractive this must make me, but I just. Don't. Fucking. Care.

I think of all the things I'm supposed to be grateful for, and the things that are supposed to bring me joy. But my broken brain and my aching heart won't let light enter. Closed for business. In the periphery, I'm vaguely aware of my "toolbox" of spiritual resources, but I don't bother. They're useless without the energy or drive to wield them. When the sad is heavy like this, I don't want to feel better. Because the heavy sad magnifies obstacles, and at the same time it puts a buffer between me and them. It tells me that if I feel better, I'll have to deal with all those problems I can't possibly manage, so I might as well stay in bed where its warm and no one can find me and ask me to do things. So many things to do, and none of them seem to fucking matter. Not a damn bit.

I don't usually write about this shit publicly. Because it's bleak, and I want my writing to give hope. But it's also honest, and maybe someone out there needs that honesty. We live our lives trying to hide this shit, thinking we are protecting ourselves or protecting others or both. Sadness is inconvenient, unpleasant, impolite. But it's real and it's human, and I've never much cared for polite conversation anyway. So here it is, my great big heavy sadness. And I'm not going to apologize for it, or justify it, or dress it up in false hope I don't really feel. I'm not even going to to reassure you that I'm sure it will pass and tomorrow will be a better day, as well-meaning friends will tell me, but I don't feel that way either. I just feel shitty. And that's all I wanted to say.