It is such a cliché to be depressed around the
holidays that I couldn’t admit it. All week I’ve struggled
to maintain my characteristically optimistic view on things, such as
the sub-zero temperature (at least it’s not North Dakota!), the
rain-on-snow (great for the drought!), the traffic (!), freezing fog
(it’s pretty when it crystallizes!) and Copenhagen (isn’t
that great—Tuvalu finally got the attention it deserves!). But
then along came Joe Lieberman’s Deputy Dawg grandstanding over
health care, and my cheerful façade shattered like icicles
hitting the pavement outside my front door.
It’s hopeless! All these months of wrangling over healthcare
“reform,” and in the end the insurance industry gets
exactly what it wants because the Senate simply can’t rise above
sandlot partisanship. Same basic idea on the international front with
climate change. And though it looks like some kind of jobs-relief bill
might be coming forward from the feds, it’s an open question as
to whether it will be the size or quality that will actually create
real, long-lasting jobs. Certainly it won’t happen in time to
save mine, one of many victims of last year’s bloodletting thanks
to UNR’s budget cuts.
Yes, like millions of Americans, yours truly is about to go
“on the dole,” as it were—for the first time in my
adult working life. It’s a scary prospect, but one that I often
contemplate with a kind of detached curiosity, as in, “well,
won’t this make interesting material for my columns?”
So, yes, thanks to our buddy Joe, I finally faced the reality of my
own mood this morning—cynical, cranky, and downright fed up.
Somewhere I read a theory that humans are actually programmed to
shift metabolic gears in the winter, to kind of hibernate in the
coldest months. This long-forgotten source told a story of traditional
cultures in the far north of Russia, where whole families did in fact
hibernate. But the main point of this theory was that we are
biologically programmed to slow down these days, espressos and electric
lights aside.
Decades ago I would have scoffed at this idea, but as I shift gears
in midlife, it makes more sense to me. Once I was a night owl, now I
start to yawn as soon as it gets dark. So I wonder how much of my
crankiness, and the widely-documented phenomenon of holiday depression,
is at least partly due to the contradiction between the pace of modern
life and our circadian rhythms?
I really don’t like to dwell in thoughts of bitterness and
“could’ve should’ve, would’ve” thinking.
So, as the sun started to break through the clouds today, I was
reminded of my grandmother’s “worse things have happened to
better people” philosophy, and began listing things to be
grateful for, lighting a few internal candles against my midwinter
darkness:
• I’m pretty healthy. My children are physically and mentally
healthy and thriving.
• I have a roof over my head.
• I live in a community surrounded by astonishing natural beauty.
Today I had occasion to view the snow-covered mountains that surround
us several times, but I never get bored by that vision.
• Speaking of community, ours has a lot going for it, even in this
time of economic crisis. We have a cool and vibrant cultural sector and
a lot of really smart and effective folks working to make this place
even cooler than it already is.
On that last note, I am, finally, incredibly grateful for the many
opportunities I’ve had to work with some of these
people—and look forward to continuing that work. I know that
there are a lot of folks out there with far bigger challenges to
surmount than mine, who are doing so with dignity and grace, and that
reminder is enough to snap me out of my Lieberman-induced
self-pity.