Usually's it's my mother who gets the post-Halloween blues; she was doing fine this year until her oldest dearest friend died on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I was doing so-so, and although some of the immediate difficulties (human relationships. You have to wonder if they are worth the trouble...) seem better, I wouldn't say anything has changed dramatically. I think I am in a little plateau of 'Meh.' It's WAY better than deep depression, but not a lot of fun.
The worst feeling this has brought is that I can take or leave wool alone. I know. Don't hate me. It makes me spotty about reading the posts even of people I care about. I just am not interested in someone's else's socks, nor my own (well, actually, there have been a few links
I have checked up, I'm not really dead yet). I finished my father's socks and my mother's neck thing and my friend's fingerless mitts (I made them for Grace to give to Debbie... now, do I owe Debbie or Grace a Christmas present? ). I have a hell of a lot of roving and yarn and not a great deal of ambition and this makes shopping problematic.
Meanwhile I am knitting on a false entrelac alpaca scarf and trying to finish the twined knitting red silk/merino/alpaca mittens I stated in Dec of 2005. If I try to finish one thing for every project I start I should end up in better shape. And I have made room reservations for the Portland Spa because I know by February I will need bright colors and human contact and maybe even wool. (Well, not need wool, as such).
The number of things that I am very, very grateful for not being worse has skyrocketed; too many friends had Christmastides punctuated by screaming fights or arrests or debilitating illness.
(Does anyone have a good book to offer my friend whom, I finally realized, blindingly obviously needs to seek out Al-Anon? I am not aware of anything in the 'Co-Dependent No More' line that is any more recent.)
My cat (Asterix, 17+) has an enlarged thyroid and needs help, and as he is the last survivior I know of his litter I imagine this is the slow slide into shadow... he's deaf, but does he HAVE to yowl so loud? I know he's there. So we will be going to the vet and trying oral medication for his eating/digestive ills. In the meantime, the household wants a young kitty for Mena (9 or ten and feisty) to smack around.
I have a cold. I got it last Wednesday. I was better Sunday, so I stayed up too late, drank more than a glass of wine, exercised yesterday, and relapsed last night into mouthbreathing and sore throat. I need to go to work today anyhow, as I was out the last two days of last year. We'll discuss my attitude about work some other time.
I am going to try to blog, or write in my journal, or draw a picture five out of seven days in the year to come. I sincerely think these are good for feeling stuck.