Just a few months ago, I celebrated my first blog anniversary, and I wrote about all the things I’ve done thanks to this blog, how posting here helped me during 2020’s quarantine. But lately, I don’t feel like doing anything.
I’ve spent the month of November just lying on my sofa, watching Gilmore Girls and random youtube videos. I’ve only read four books this month; one of them took me two weeks to finish because I couldn’t focus. I have an unfinished embroidery that I started a long time ago, just staring at me, mocking me. I didn’t even carve a pumpkin this year, even though I love carving pumpkins! I just couldn’t be bothered. By late October, my mood was already starting to decrease, and my sad Halloween display stayed on until now.
I hate this feeling that I’m “wasting my time” by just lying here doing nothing productive, but what I hate the most is feeling that I’m just not enjoying this season. I love autumn and winter, just look at the name of my blog. I felt so excited in early autumn. I got all my autumn clothes out in mid-September when it was still too warm for woolly jumpers. In October, I’d go for long walks right after work at 4.30 pm, and I would get home by nightfall. But then, someone decided that 4.30 pm was now 5.30 pm, which meant it’s already dark when I finish work, so walking around the park alone is not an option anymore. I hadn’t realised how much I depended on those autumnal walks. Breathing in the cold air and seeing the orange leaves fall from the trees kept me sane.
I feel betrayed by one of the things I love the most, autumn. I always loved that it was dark before 5 pm in the colder months, I found it cosy and exciting. Now, I just feel trapped. I get up when it’s still dark, go to work and come home when it’s getting darker. The only time the Sun is out is while I’m working on marketing campaigns for clients and answering long and unnecessary emails. My extensive collection of warm jumpers and woolly hats doesn’t excite me anymore. I feel lost, and for the first time in 27 years, it feels like I’m developing SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), a type of depression that develops in the winter months, related to the decrease in daylight which affects the brain. But as a self-proclaimed autumn girl, this makes zero sense to me. I’m supposed to love this season, and winter hasn’t even started yet!
The fact that I’ve been reading Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine this week didn’t help much. I think my mood got worse thanks to this book, which I loved, but also made me very sad. Now I’m reading Matt Haig’s The Comfort Book, but I don’t feel very comforted at the moment. The reviews said it was “like a warm hug”, but right now, I’m far too cynical for his “hopeful” notes to his future self.
This post is going nowhere, as is my motivation, but I at least forced myself to sit down and stop living vicariously through Rory Gilmore’s life for a minute and write this post. I’d like to finish this with a positive note, but I can’t think of anything other than Taylor Swift’s new version of the RED album is fantastic, and I’ve been listening to All Too Well too many times, which might also be affecting my mood. Will December be better?
Willow in Winter 