Seasonal change

Winter is in the chilly air here in New Jersey. It's dark when we wake up. It's late afternoon when we come home. We need jackets. But not coats, yet. We wear long sleeves and long pants. And socks and closed toe shoes.

The trees are heavy with their green bursting to explode into reds, oranges and yellows. Halloween decorations abound. Kids play soccer on Sunday afternoons in failing sunlight and practice soccer under bright football-field lights on school nights. Candy is on sale!

My Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is held in abeyance by Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) (so many acronyms in too little time?) prescribed for my general (major) depression. It could be debated, but sadness for the upcoming winter should not start in August. November and in a pinch, even October, sadness is more acceptable.

Still, I continue the therapist search. I have initial, getting-to-know-you-it's-worse-than-a-first-date sessions scheduled. I am coping. Plugging along.

I enjoy my life. I continue on in the now. Still, it's hard. But on I go.

Melancholia, therapy and changes

I've been in a melancholy state lately. Frustrated with my son's ADHD. Suffering from an internal stagnation stymieing any soulful progress. My partner is in therapy. Our son is in therapy. We took our daughter to therapy to make sure she was not neglected in all the slavish devotion to our son and his ADHD. (She pronounces ADHD as ah-had.) I need to be in therapy.

We took our daughter to my partner and our son's therapist because I was concerned that unless we acknowledged her issues, we would eventually have a resentful surly, angry 15 year old. We may still have a hostile teenager but it hopefully be for normal adolescent stuff and not because she despises her brother and us for the amount of time he has consumed.

My partner returned to therapy for many reasons. Our son is in therapy for ADHD and other issues.

Me: I am trying to cope. There are many dormant things percolating herein. I want to flee but I am a home girl. I like having a home. I like being home. I like being at home. At ease and restful. Rested. In a respite. I must share space with my family. I willingly share space with my family. I want to be at ease but I am on guard. I fear what I project what our son could be. A thug. And, I am resentful. I need to address this. I fear a major change.

In myself. (But, most change in my life has been for the best.) I am apprehensive. Still, the stagnation has shifted subtly, softly.

I am ready for change.