On Molasses
Some times you’re the windshield, some times you’re the bug.~ Mary Chapin Carpenter
November 2022
These past few days I have been mired in molasses. Not the blackstrap molasses I’m using to make rum, but the one that you feel you’re swimming in, that slows your movements, that slows your brain. It could be long COVID19 rearing its head — I unfortunately spent my 50th birthday quarantined and recovering since I wasn’t eligible to be boosted until that date — so no cake, no fancy dinner, no spending time with my boys. My 40th decade passed quietly wearing my party dress drinking pink champagne alone on my couch. It could be the fact that I am peri menopausal — I’ve had a difficult time regulating my emotions the past couple of years on certain days of the month — or maybe it’s because I haven’t had a chance to talk to my therapist lately. I’ve been doing well and so busy it’s been over a month since we’ve spoken. Maybe it’s because it’s that season when the sun rays slanting during the afternoon feel like late evening and the sun sets early. Or maybe it’s the fact that as I’ve been organizing my storage and going through so many things that bring up old memories, some good, some bad. These are all possible reasons for the molasses, but the fact is that this molasses is depression-mild though persistent-where I’m okay enough to function, but not okay enough to truly function.
The last time I had this was early this year. January, February, and March were truly bleak months. Those who know me well know why, those who don’t, well, it’s sort of in my blogs, but the good news is I was able to rebalance my life then. At least, for a few months. The bottom line is that it’s back and at a time where I need to be at my top functional state. The difference between then and now is I have new tools, new experiences, and new confidence in who I am and what I value. Sounds great, right? But yet even that hasn’t been enough to shake me. Even the daunting realization that unless I move through this sea, I’m going to destroy the things I’ve worked so hard these past few months, really my whole life, to create and nurture, is not enough the past few days to motivate me.
Does this mean I’m on the wrong path? No. But it does mean I need to stop and review what’s holding me back. Throughout my life I’ve had events — good, bad, so terrible they’re soul shattering — and I’ve dealt with them all as the person I was at the time with the tools I had. Sometimes, that was enough. Sometimes, it wasn’t, but I was able to put bandaids or cauterize wounds so I could push ahead. The problem with the latter is that things don’t always heal, and worse, fester. Until they are tended, they will be there, like a thorn that’s embedded under the skin that hurts when you press it.
January 2, 2023
I wrote the paragraphs above almost 6 weeks ago, but didn’t finish. I’m still in the same place, but things are getting brighter. I am moving a bit more, but I’m also getting tired from the movement. I don’t know what I need to shake this. Maybe, a day in the sun, listening to the waves.
Happy 2023.
