The things we don’t write about.

dark clouds

The grimy veil of winter is slipping over my eyes, slowing my movements and dimming my vision. In the periphery, I can faintly see joy packing and taking up residence under the bed to hibernate until spring. I forgot how much I hate winter with its whole being-freezing-all-the-timeness and its driving-carpool-in-the-darkness-ness.

It happens every year as the earth’s orbit shrinky dinks our days. Tiny things like getting gas feel gargantuan, undoable, Herculean. Put me in your fist like a lump of coal and squeeze with all your might. I promise you, I will turn to dust before I shine like a diamond.

All of us are sick of me being sick. Eight weeks in, the mono drags me down – not so much that I am unable to function at all, but enough that I am unable to function effectively. But there is no medical leave from life when you can still drive a car and pack a lunch and prop yourself up on the benches at taekwondo and you only occasionally faint in public.

And so there are things we don’t write about. The afternoon sobbing or the times you yell at the kids and don’t Learn Something Important from your behavior or the school meetings that drain you until you are running on fumes.

It’s not always Eminem baskets and giant babies at The Reedster Speaks.

This is NaBloPoMo at yeah write, Day 18.

About Cindy Reed

I hate pants.
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22 Responses to The things we don’t write about.

  1. Philips GoLite. Helps a bit.

  2. Cris says:

    Love and hugs. SAD is taking residence in my house too.

  3. Michelle Icard says:

    I adore you.

  4. I feel for you having once had The Something (no insurance so no diagnosis) and being sick and tired of being sick and tired for months I know, I know. Just keep plodding along and take what joys you can. It will all be over someday and the sun will shine again!

  5. ugh I”m sorry.. but you still write real pretty even about ugly things. i hope you feel better.

  6. Sarah Buchanan says:

    Cindy, we love you even through all those moments of darkness, both literal and figurative. I’m sure you are not feeling it right now, so please let me remind you of how strong you are. You’ve been through a great deal in your life and have lived to shine on and bring joy to the lives of many. I hope you feel better soon.

    I’m sending you love and hugs, and all the strength I can possibly send via positive vibes. I’m sorry that things suck sometimes. The darkness attacks me, too. And my daughter. Thank god for meds. And lamps. And furnaces.

    Love you,

    • The Reedster says:

      Sarah, thank you so much for your words. I am at the point in life where I can see it coming and know it will pass. That’s a big step from in my twenties when it would just descend and hang and feel hopeless. But knowing it will end doesn’t make it feel any less like you are walking through jello. Hugs to you and your daughter 🙂

      • Sarah Buchanan says:

        If we could *really* walk through jello, that would be much more fun, wouldn’t it? Sticky, but fun. And delicious if you fall!

  7. God I love this post. I swear to god, even though there are times that living in this Islamic Las-Vegas knockoff of a city makes me want to rip my hair out & run screaming back to the hell of Manhattan, I think…wait. What about February, the calendrically short month that in fact lasts for 3 years, every year?? What about that ha-ha-fooled-ya-spring-isn’t-really-here-yet late March cold wet rain that lasts for weeks on end?
    And I say, inshallah I will stay in this desert city until global warming heats up the whole damn planet.
    Good luck. Cut yourself as much slack as humanly possible; eat off paper plates; buy fuzzy socks. I send you webhugz.

    • Cindy Reed says:

      I will gladly accept your webhugz from across the planet :). And I found leopard socks with sticky pads on the bottom so I don’t fall down the stairs and they have FAUX FUR TRIM around the ankles. In other words, things are looking up.

  8. jmlindy422 says:

    I am so reliably affected by the weather that it’s almost scary. It was grey and gloomy here yesterday. I could barely make it through the day. No yelling, but almost beaned the kids in my class you asked what they were supposed to write on their work sheets right after I told them to write on their worksheets. Impatiently waiting for Spring along with you.

  9. Stacie says:

    So sorry that on top of the usual winter bs, you have to have mono on top of it. I get moody in the winter too, even though I am not depressed. I just don’t like the cold and dark and it shows. I hope the sun comes out for you soon. XOXO

  10. Oh, I hope you feel better soon. And that you find your light. It’s the same thing to me. xo

  11. Pingback: I have lost my words.The Reedster Speaks

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