We are now in the depths of winter. I am maintaining my position perched well above Depression Valley with occasional visits to the Island of Aggravation and the Coasts of Over-stimulation. 'Tis the season.
Christmas vacation always reminds me of how fragile my grip on psychological wellness is. My circadian rhythms are thrown completely out of whack during the holidays. My senses are bombarded with flickering lights, unusual aromas, noisy chatter, and a clutter of new stuff. I also feel overwhelmed by the emotional needs of my ever present family. To be clear most of them have not asked me to fully take on the burden their emotional needs, but I just cannot seem to help myself.
I have felt particularly overstimulated and aggravated this week. When my Monday morning exercise class (my last chance for group exercise before Friday) was canceled, I felt an emotion that reached far beyond frustration. I felt utterly defeated as I climbed back into my icy car and drove back home where I felt out of sorts for the rest of the day. Walks out in the freezing cold, and solitary exercise simply do not lift my spirits in the same way that an exercise class can.
On New Year's Day I was still annoyed. After New Year's lunch (black-eyed peas, ham, rice, yadda yadda) my girls and I sat down with a stack of magazines and some poster board, and we created vision boards for the new year. I was insightful enough to realize that a list of New Year's Resolutions would not be the best motivator for me. My older kids jumped right in, completely on board. My four year old cut out every picture of a cat she could find and glued all of them on to her florescent green poster board. Brilliant.
I covered my vision board with words and images that I hope will describe my emotional life throughout the year: Spontaneous Happiness, Invincible Summer, Balance, Wellness, Organization, etc. I cut out pictures of bare feet and sunflowers, raw fruits and vegetables, a laughing family, and a happy child cooking with her mom. As I sat with my girls and used my hands to cut and paste, I felt productive and peaceful. Everyone was busy, engaged, and quiet. It was divine.
Best of all we cannot fail to achieve the goals and dreams illustrated on our vision boards. We can look at them each day and remind ourselves that we envision more peace, that we expect to become stronger swimmers, that we should make time to honor a desire to read more good books, and that we should pause daily to appreciate the cats of the world. We can also add new words and pictures as the year goes on. Win!
My new year will really start on Monday, January 6th when I have to start waking up in the dark at 6:30 in the morning to ice skate with my eleven year old down to the bus stop. Does my vision board remind me to put my "feet on the floor" every day? You bet your Granny's booties it does. There is a not-so-small part of me that is looking forward to getting back into the rhythm of that horrible weekday schedule with my early morning light therapy and sensible diet.
I feel like such an impossibly grown-up adult writing these words, but I am happy to be an adult with a very determined grip on my perch here above Depression Valley. I know how easy it can be to slip right off. I am keenly aware of the fragility of my position at this time of year. And when I start to panic, I vow to lean on the vision of my duck-lipped four year old and to stop and appreciate a cat.
Christmas vacation always reminds me of how fragile my grip on psychological wellness is. My circadian rhythms are thrown completely out of whack during the holidays. My senses are bombarded with flickering lights, unusual aromas, noisy chatter, and a clutter of new stuff. I also feel overwhelmed by the emotional needs of my ever present family. To be clear most of them have not asked me to fully take on the burden their emotional needs, but I just cannot seem to help myself.
I have felt particularly overstimulated and aggravated this week. When my Monday morning exercise class (my last chance for group exercise before Friday) was canceled, I felt an emotion that reached far beyond frustration. I felt utterly defeated as I climbed back into my icy car and drove back home where I felt out of sorts for the rest of the day. Walks out in the freezing cold, and solitary exercise simply do not lift my spirits in the same way that an exercise class can.
On New Year's Day I was still annoyed. After New Year's lunch (black-eyed peas, ham, rice, yadda yadda) my girls and I sat down with a stack of magazines and some poster board, and we created vision boards for the new year. I was insightful enough to realize that a list of New Year's Resolutions would not be the best motivator for me. My older kids jumped right in, completely on board. My four year old cut out every picture of a cat she could find and glued all of them on to her florescent green poster board. Brilliant.
I covered my vision board with words and images that I hope will describe my emotional life throughout the year: Spontaneous Happiness, Invincible Summer, Balance, Wellness, Organization, etc. I cut out pictures of bare feet and sunflowers, raw fruits and vegetables, a laughing family, and a happy child cooking with her mom. As I sat with my girls and used my hands to cut and paste, I felt productive and peaceful. Everyone was busy, engaged, and quiet. It was divine.
Best of all we cannot fail to achieve the goals and dreams illustrated on our vision boards. We can look at them each day and remind ourselves that we envision more peace, that we expect to become stronger swimmers, that we should make time to honor a desire to read more good books, and that we should pause daily to appreciate the cats of the world. We can also add new words and pictures as the year goes on. Win!
My new year will really start on Monday, January 6th when I have to start waking up in the dark at 6:30 in the morning to ice skate with my eleven year old down to the bus stop. Does my vision board remind me to put my "feet on the floor" every day? You bet your Granny's booties it does. There is a not-so-small part of me that is looking forward to getting back into the rhythm of that horrible weekday schedule with my early morning light therapy and sensible diet.
I feel like such an impossibly grown-up adult writing these words, but I am happy to be an adult with a very determined grip on my perch here above Depression Valley. I know how easy it can be to slip right off. I am keenly aware of the fragility of my position at this time of year. And when I start to panic, I vow to lean on the vision of my duck-lipped four year old and to stop and appreciate a cat.
Happy New Year, Lovlies!
