The Winter Blues are creeping up on me again. I had hoped to avoid them this year. I set a precedence in my childhood for bad winters which I unfortunately have not yet managed to break but in Spring I will bloom like a flower. I can promise you this. Shake it off, shake it off.
Sleep only comes easy in the daytime now. The same old worries are still keeping me up at night. I try and lie perfectly still and let a calm wash over me but inevitably I end up tossing and turning until I worry myself to sleep. I'm afraid that I will never be content but I am trying to convince myself that this is not necessarily a bad thing. I always feel as if I am perched on the edge. On the verge of something big. Dr. Seuss would say that I am in the waiting place. For God's sake stick with me through this one. It might take us off the charts.
We lie naked under the blankets in an attic so cold that we can see our breath in front of our noses. We have mastered the art of getting warm. We are smart enough to not emerge from beneath the covers until well into the afternoon when the temperature has risen to a reasonable degree. Like Native Americans snug inside our wigwam, underneath what must be at least 30 stars. When will you leave me for The Hunt again?
Ok, Old Man Winter...hit me with your best shot. I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve and I am anxious to see who emerges the victor in this battle of wills.
Sleep only comes easy in the daytime now. The same old worries are still keeping me up at night. I try and lie perfectly still and let a calm wash over me but inevitably I end up tossing and turning until I worry myself to sleep. I'm afraid that I will never be content but I am trying to convince myself that this is not necessarily a bad thing. I always feel as if I am perched on the edge. On the verge of something big. Dr. Seuss would say that I am in the waiting place. For God's sake stick with me through this one. It might take us off the charts.
We lie naked under the blankets in an attic so cold that we can see our breath in front of our noses. We have mastered the art of getting warm. We are smart enough to not emerge from beneath the covers until well into the afternoon when the temperature has risen to a reasonable degree. Like Native Americans snug inside our wigwam, underneath what must be at least 30 stars. When will you leave me for The Hunt again?
Ok, Old Man Winter...hit me with your best shot. I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve and I am anxious to see who emerges the victor in this battle of wills.