Blinded by the Light

The light above me was so bright - and only inches away from my face - that I could feel the warmth radiating from it.  I squinted but then closed my eyes to avoid being reminded of the song lyrics “blinded by the light.” I’m sure the words had a meaning other than just literally having my vision pierced, but that’s exactly how it felt.

The interrogation began with “I haven’t seen you in awhile, how have things been with you?”.  Yes, it had been months, and what felt like the longest winter in many years.  So very cold and I was perfectly content to hibernate like a bear does… away from anything else remotely familiar, hunkering down until Spring, in all its glory, returned. 

On one of my jaunts out into the cold recently I had noticed the small purple crocus in the front yard had emerged through the frozen ground as usual, which normally gave me hope, only to find it had collapsed under the weight of the last and biggest snowfall.  The sight of the trampled petals made me wonder if this was a sign.  How could it be? 

Things had already felt rather gloomy, and now, to think that this tiny living thing that I always looked forward to seeing at the end of the winter season, strong enough to push through and always encouraged ME to also push through, looked broken, made my heart sink just a little.  And now, I sat in this small room with a hot, bright lamp bearing down on me, being questioned about how things have been and feeling the intensity of the light I wondered if it was a way to get me to expose the truth.  Do they want honesty or just the light-hearted, brush-it-off reply that everyone uses?  “Fine.”  “I’m fine.” 

“Well, it HAS been a long winter!” I mumbled and paused to think about what I would say next.  A long winter.  It truly didn’t make any sense to say that.  It was still the same length of time as any other winter season.  December, January, February.  I realized it’s more than an actual number of weeks.  It’s how one feels about the cold, heavier clothing and confinement.  Anyone that enjoys winter sports probably thinks that it was a short winter with not enough time to go skiing, sledding, ice skating, drinking hot toddies and cocoa and munching on cheese fondue.  Someone like myself feels frozen for months and one of my pastimes is trying to figure out how many layers of clothing I might need on any given day.  One of my favorite daily exercises is walking over to the thermostat, checking to see if it’s slid under 70 degrees, tapping it up to 72, getting a cup of tea and then bundling up under a blanket to read a book or watch a movie.  Of course, when it’s 72 in spring I begin to be concerned about when I’ll be ready to put on the air conditioner because I’m beginning to think about how warm it’s getting.  I’m like the reality version of Goldilocks.  Not too hot, not too cold… I like it JUST right!

I was snapped back to the present when I heard “Yes, it felt like a long winter!”  The light above me was adjusted a bit to where I began thinking I might be getting a free tan out of this.  No point investing in a sunlamp or a visit to the tanning salon, this could do the trick a lot cheaper.  “I don’t think we need to do X-rays today, we can save it for next time if you’re alright.”

Alright was a relative term actually.  Dentist visits are just something I am committed to doing to make sure my teeth don’t fall out of my head, or worse, cause me any more pain than I’ve already endured. If they could just stop pointing that ultra-intensity light in my face it would help a bit.  

Making the adjustment from winter to spring is a whole other thing.  I’m one of those people who has a harder time at the end of winter rather than with Seasonal Affective Disorder in January for some reason.  I plough through, and just when I begin to feel exhausted and in dire need of fresh spring air and sunshine, I usually see the little crocus peeking through, which is just enough to imply “Hang in there, kiddo!”  But, this year, it was MY turn to look at the bent purple petals and think “Hang in there, kiddo! There’s always next year!”