In the dark, but the snow is glowing

I’ve been away from this blog for a bit. The reasons behind my absence are mostly personal. Maybe it’s getting up in the dark, coming home in the dark, and little focus after long days at work.

I have started a couple of essays, and they end up nowhere. I can’t think.

And I’m angry. I feel so incredibly angry about so many things and I find myself crying for no reason, at least once each day.

This morning, I wept for these dead children in Kobani, killed by ISIS,  and the senselessness madness of extremism. I got myself into the shower to get ready for work, and I felt gutted by sadness.

dead children

I don’t think there is a handbook on how to cope with the horror confronting us in today’s world. And my own middle-aged woman’s sadness in my secure job, my fulfilled, first world life feels like a betrayal of all these people.

These little babies.

Charleston. France. Tunisia. Nauru. Bullies. All the rest of it.

My grief is ripping me up.

So I’m looking for small wonders. Three pelicans swimming down the river yesterday morning, my little Chihuahua holding his small stuffed mouse in his miniature paws in play, a hug from my husband, the sharp beauty of the sunset I catch just a glimpse of on the drive home if I leave on time.

Really nice people I get to talk to every day.

Maybe I have a dose of depression. That’s ok. I know it can pass.

Two years ago, I was stricken with a bout of the blues, and I did something about it.

I went to see a psychologist, and it was okay.

I didn’t visit her for all the sessions I was allotted by Medicare, but I saw her enough to know I could take some solace in the fact that life, for me, does offer surprises.

You know that scene in Bridget Jones’ Diary when she blows it with Mark Darcy and she miserably loafs around her flat?

Well, it’s been kind of like that lately. But without the rom/com foreshadowing.

Moomins 2I also feel a little like Moomintroll. The little guy woke up in the midst of midwinter, very alone, and found the rest of his family deeply asleep.

He ventured out into snow, for the first time, had adventures, but I remember when I read it as a child I felt his fear and loneliness in the midst of the white, dark quiet.

It’s a little like that, too, though the snow, despite the sky overcast or moonless still casts a glow.



Join the discussion and tell us your opinion.

June 27, 2015 at 11:10 am

Love you. When in doubt, feel a poem and write it with your life. It’s what you do and who you are. Be good to yourself. Gentle, kind and patient.

June 27, 2015 at 11:29 am
– In reply to: Judy

Thanks Judy. To you, too.

July 2, 2015 at 1:05 am

Just read this and I am sorry that you are feeling so down and know to well how that can be. The world can be such an ugly place and it is easy to get overwhelmed. I agree – looking for the small wonders is important. I get my smiles from watching the mama and papa crows feeding their nearly adult sized juveniles, who squawk and flutter their wings in anticipation. Know that you are a very bright spot in this world – just your being who you are, everyday, makes it a much better place.

Love you lots, my friend.

July 8, 2015 at 7:58 pm
– In reply to: Jennifer

Back at you my friend. Back at you.

July 6, 2015 at 3:46 pm

Michele – I heard this talk and the theme of bearing witness reminded me of some of the things you’ve been writing about, and the stories you tell about your local community. I think, I wish you were writing about my community, because you bring humanity to stories big and small. You may not see your journalism as a calling (then.Now.when?) but it seems to me you are meant to write.

July 8, 2015 at 7:56 pm
– In reply to: Laura

I will dig into that site, Laura and thank you for sharing it. Great quote: “It took identity to rescue me from sadness.” How true is that in how many ways? And I felt grateful for your kind words. I seem to keep writing-even when I find it far too tiring-even if its sporadic. And it’s comments like yours that keep me going. Thank you.

Leave a reply