Days Without Sun

Sometimes I get sad in the winter.

I know that I’m sad because I don’t want to go to bed because it means I have to wake up.

This probably sounds odd.

Let me explain.

I love getting up. It's the best to wake up with a fresh slate of hours.

Yes, I’m one of those people who loves mornings. One of those people you’ve probably (definitely) hated at some point in your life because who in her right mind is stoked to wake up at 5:15am in the summer to go for a sunrise run or a long day hike. I’ve convinced myself that the most beautiful time in the world is between 6am and 9am, when the light is of the day is new and untarnished.

I go to bed so that I can wake up and take part of some of this newness.

So when I don’t want to go bed, it means I don’t want to wake up, and I know that something is wrong.  

This happened last January too. Bloomington is right on the border of EST and so the sun doesn’t rise until approximately 7:59am. And when I say the sun rises, I mean it is indeed light outside, but you can’t usually see the sun. It’s been cloudy almost every day this month. Which I would have loved back when I lived in Colorado because clouds were so rare. I used to think they brought such a rare, lovely stillness and melancholy to the world.

Melancholy clouds can be good every now and then.

Weeks of clouds are a little much for me.

Enough to make me dread the mornings and thus try to make my nights last longer. Nights when you can't tell if the melancholy clouds are still haunting the January skies.

Being sad is a real thing. Seasonal affective disorder, right? According to the Wikipedia page and my self-diagnosis, I'm not affected as long or as extremely as others. But January can be hard.

Bless those souls that live in Finland, Norway, Russia, Alaska, etc.

My plants have been sad too. This is my first winter being a plant mama (that is, plants not still growing in cups of water) and it’s been hard for me to see my fledgling avocado trees wilt for lack of sunlight (much like my soul).

So much so that I bought them an indoor growing lamp. I may or may not have also looked up the possibility of human growth lamps. PSA: there are no human growth lamps sold on Amazon.

The result of the plant lamp?

My baby trees love it. They are growing for the first time since October (PRAISE THE LORD).

Which makes me a little more excited to wake up in the mornings these days. T

o see plant growth amidst the melancholy clouds.

The moral of this jumble of words about me being sad and having SAD and getting a growth light for my plants?

It’s okay to be sad and have SAD and long for the days when melancholy clouds were rare.

When you are sad though, find yourself a human-growth lamp. Even if it's not available for purchase on Amazon.

Maybe that’s buying a plant light.

Or reconnecting with an old friend.

Or planning a trip to somewhere you've never been.

Or trying out a new kind of dance (even if you suck at it).

Or writing down something you’ve been thinking about.

Or baking something fantastic (even if it's supposed to be fantastic and actually turns out terrible but there was joy in the struggle so it still counts).

Gather light wherever you can find it.

Remind yourself that it won’t always be winter and you won't always be sad because even winter can have sunshine. Sometimes you just have to find your own.

#humangrowthlamps