I've been wondering what ties this newsletter together besides seasonal depression and Mike Leigh. Seasons, I said, but what does that mean? It doesn’t feel possible to write perpetually about weather and holidays. I have nothing interesting to say about Valentine’s Day.
What interests me about seasons is change and repetition. A season is both the same thing happening repeatedly and proof it won’t happen forever. The moment my 5-year-old loses something, she laments it’s gone forever. And I get it, even with 35 years on her, since that’s often my first reaction to uncertainty. Permanence feels more manageable. Our extended family has been experiencing a lot of ambiguous loss, or loss without closure. An ambiguous season feels harder to weather than winter, because it’s unclear when it’s going to end or if it’s even winter at all.
On the other hand, a seasonal newsletter could just be a letter in which I share news on a seasonal basis. So in the spirit of seasons as both vague theme and temporal descriptor, I’ll share what feels like it’s changing right now and what feels like it’s not. It’s all changing, obviously, but I can’t feel the earth turning.
Changing:
Kids: As of last month, both kids are in school, with J starting at four mornings a week. When I fantasized about this last year, I imagined myself sitting atop a vast reservoir of time, which is funny now. Between snow days (just got a text about another one tomorrow!) , sick days, and holidays, four mornings a week remains an aspirational schedule. People also warned me those morning hours go very fast, but with a toddler at home, they were going very slow, so this is still a new era.
Hair: I’ve long wanted silver hair and am finally seeing enough in my natural color to justify growing it out, I think? Maybe only be in certain lights. In SF, I was getting highlights to bridge the gap, but every time I get them here they turn out blond, which is not what I want anymore. This is what I want:
Spirituality: While I haven’t had a drink in almost ten years, I’ve taken plenty of “vacations” from my Higher Power, wherein I mistake myself or other people for powerful, omniscient beings. This always turns out to be a mistake, and it’s always a relief to reconnect my divine thirst to a divine source. I’m blessed with a therapist with a background in religious studies, who’s able to connect my sundry feelings and dreams to relevant texts and traditions. She recently took a workshop with James Finley on mystical sobriety, leading me to his latest book about trauma and healing. Christianity feels particularly resonant to me at the moment, but I’m also (slowly) reading When God Was a Woman.
On Repeat:
Kids: Still working with the 2-year-old on getting poops in the potty, with the 5-year-old on saying that in a nicer voice, with both on getting coats, snow pants, boots, hats, mittens, backpacks on and into the car, getting out of the car and removing coats, snow pants, boots, hats, mittens, backpacks. . . While behaving myself in a manner worthy of imitation.
Lana Del Rey's Did you know there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd: This album sounds like it was made for driving through a winter valley alone, which I spend a fair amount of time doing on the way to and from my kids. Also, I miss my sister, who turned me on to Lana Del Rey back when everyone still considered her a joke. Maybe one day, I will write more about ear worms and their connection to anxiety and how I understand getting your guard up around a musician who creates so many. But I would rather choose my own ear worm than be accidentally infected, so I listen to nothing but this album until the kids get in the car and make me switch it to Moana.
Maladaptive nocturnalism: I find it extremely challenging to get to sleep before 1AM. I’m not looking for advice on this, especially not from morning people, just putting it out there as one of the ways I’m stuck. It seems like the times available for parents to be alone are early in the morning or late at night, two seemingly neutral options, except our society is strongly biased toward the former. Are there other night-owl parents out there? I’m not looking for anyone to message or anything (the point’s to be alone) but maybe knowing about others will help me feel like less of a dirtbag in the morning.
Gerontocracy and war: Nothing new to say, so I’ll just link to some places I’ve donated: Anera, Gaza Sunbirds, PCRF, UNRWA
Ramona books: Putting them here because I read them as a kid then again recently, but they still feel refreshing and comforting and real. They’re also some of the only longer kids’ books I read aloud without skipping over words—not to censor, just because most kids’ books have too many words. We took a brief detour from Ramona after E came home asking if there was “something called Harry Potter,” and I was shaving off full paragraphs there. Those books might be more enjoyable read silently to yourself? But Cleary keeps it tight and easy to read aloud.
Gus: College friends may remember Gus, the one-eyed terrier mutt I adopted with my boyfriend at the time. Gus lived with me for a while after the breakup, but I didn’t feel I was giving him what he needed, so he went to live with Alex, who’s taken such good care of him that he’s still alive 15 years later. They live nearby, in Vermont, and Gus has stayed with us a couple times this winter. I still don’t feel like I’m giving him what he needs, partly because at least one of the kids acts like they’re being chased by a bear anytime he’s in the vicinity, but it’s been wild bringing these previously disparate parts of my life together.
What’s changing or repeating for you?
We're almost finished with the last Harry Potter book and I'm extremely happy to see that I'm not the only one who edits/skips entire paragraphs. There's something about those books that makes them extremely difficult for me to read them aloud...I can never quite put a finger on it. Sometimes wordiness, other times the syntax or rhythm is just odd, like words aren't supposed to go in those places. On many nights I've put the book down thinking I'm losing my ability to comprehend language.
I don't have kids but am a night owl and it is insane how society is set up only for the lives of morning people??? like come on. we could literally have a 24 hour economy if people would accept that some of us can only really sleep well between 2-10am