The Dark Days

Today is my parent's 37th anniversary. I'd show you a photo, but I lost my digital scans of the originals when my hard drive crashed the week of our wedding.

Thirty seven years. Sometimes I think they've made it this far only through stubborn resolve not to quit. The years immediately after dad was fired were hard on all of us, and especially hard on their marriage.

They seem to have come through it though, and both of them take a quiet, deep pride in the accomplishments of the other person. They are good people, and I am grateful to have them in my life.
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Today is the winter solstice; the shortest day of year. The longest night. We woke up this morning to a snowstorm, and I told Dusty and the dog "Guys! It's the shortest day of the year, which only means that tomorrow is a little longer, and the next day even longer. Spring is on its way!"

I think I've been mildly depressed this fall. There are many potential causes: the shortening days, the health of my grandparents, the post-trip blues and the impact the trip had on our finances. The Next Big Thing on the horizon, but a difference of opinion in when and how to get there. Career expansion that's both thrilling and intimidating.

I just haven't felt very sparkly, you know? It's manifested in two drinks a night (more on the weekends), falling into tears easily and serious apathy at work.

It finally poured out to Dusty last night, and he asked all the right questions. "Do you want to go talk to someone about it?" (No, I think once we get through Christmas and the days start to get longer and I'll be so busy that I don't have time to be sad it'll lift).

DJ mentioned that he's always thought that January and February sucked too, and asked "what we can do during those months as a preventative measure?" (Since a trip to Mexico isn't possible, date nights, using our new cross-country skiis on sunny mornings to get me outside, getting big projects done around the house).

My family has a history of depression. Whose doesn't? My grandpa gets particularly owly in the winter, when he's cooped up inside and its dark out. I suggested a light box for him a couple of weeks ago, and now I think it might be on my post-Christmas purchase list.

I've told Dusty about this many times, and given him permission to ask probing questions if I start getting overly crabby at any time. He asked all the right questions last night. He kept asking, "are you okay," to which I kept replying "I will be."

Because it gets brighter from here.