February is buried somewhere in the back yard

Lord, but it’s been a rough few weeks, which should come as no surprise to anyone reading this in real time. But seeing as this blog is for posterity as much as for cathartic entertainment, I thought I should take a few moments on this, the 5th of March, and give a little summary of the past few weeks.

January was good. It was solid. I made progress in many areas. Then, the night of my birthday, the first blizzard started.  It was novel.  It was neat.  Ours is a family of hunkerers, so we actually delighted in the snuggle-in-with-a-hot-drink-and-a-book kind of mentality.  But then it didn’t stop snowing. For what seemed the entire month of February we continued to get beaten down and buried under.  The kids were fine. They loved, loved, loved being housebound for weeks at a time with nary a day between to go to school. Don’t get me wrong: if we had lost internet connection it would have been Lord of the Fucking Flies around here. But we never lost connectivity so they never lost their happiness. However, it was starting to take its toll on me and Larry.

The public transportation system crumbled under the weight of the relentless storms. There was no time between storms to clear the massive amounts of snow.  And the record-breaking cold crippled the aging and decrepit equipment that shunted people in and out of the city.  It was pandemonium.  It was insane.  Commuting times were doubled and tripled. Larry was forced to work from home after brutal commuting attempts ultimately failed.  And the snow and cold kept coming.  Larry started our dinner reflections by praying for relief from this demon white oppressor.  Increasingly we lost our motivation to be healthy and mindful.  We descended into a flurry of comfort food and drink.  We became #cookereaterdrinkers and embraced the gluttony and solace that only dairy and carbs and alcohol can give. We may have chanted:  “SUGAR, SALT, FAT: THAT’S WHERE IT’S AT!”  And then somewhere around the second week of February I sank into — what in hindsight — I recognize as a depression.  It felt like forever, but was probably only a couple of days.  I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t shower. I didn’t dress.  I had abandoned bras and waistbands.  I felt sick and exhausted and sad. The kids were still delighted to be home and I don’t think they saw me as anything more than having a cold and in bed.  Larry was still struggling to work between shoveling and I sunk into an isolated, Netflix haze. Not sure where or how, but somewhere along the line, I snapped out of the worst of it.  I think having a very special family Valentine’s Day dinner with the whole family helped.  And for some funny reason the movie: Alexander and the horrible no good very bad day also made me feel a lot better.  Go figure, right?

I started getting more active. There was a day when I took the kids out to make our way around the city to try to support our poor local merchants who were hit so hard from the weather.  And then there was an evening when Larry and I escaped to Opus for a duck dinner walking in Lafayette Street because the sidewalks were still covered and the corners were mini mountains.  I started returning phone calls and started talking with friends, who it turns out went through almost the exact same symptoms as I did. We all felt so isolated but in fact, we were all depressed together. Again: go figure.

Before I knew it, I had friends coming in for a long weekend so I latched onto that. I spent time planning and prepping. Cleaning and organizing. It gave me purpose and something to look forward to. And that girls’ weekend did not disappoint. I got to spend the weekend with some amazing, funny, witty, smart, beautiful women.

And then, somehow, it was March. There is still an awful lot of snow, but I am off and running. I’mv busy with the kids’  school, and civics, and art. Not sure where February went, but where ever it went it can damn well stay there.  I don’t need to see the likes of that kind of month ever again.

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