The scariest time of the year, is here …

I warn people well in advance.  Stay away to be safe, to be sure, for the week between Christmas and the New Year is a dangerous time to be near me.  I hate it.  Loathe it.  It’s like the dark ages, Medieval times – a time of fog and brooding thoughts.

For someone who likes routine, life and business, the enforced public holidays, nothing happening, dark afternoons and endless nights bodes ill in my home.  Totally forget what day of the week it is, literally, what is today? Oh, it seemed as long and lifeless as yesterday.  Little, if anything happens, if you discount the madness of zombies packing Oxford Street for the sales and returning of gifts given in love and swopped with disregard to the giver.  ‘Didn’t like them socks, or them jumpers … gonna swop them for somefink more suitable.  For when we go to Ibiza and me holidays.’ Christmas cheer seems to disappear into bustling and jolting on the high street – ugh, note to self … do not seek life in the midst of post Christmas retuners of gifts.  Discarded Christmas trees all around. So depressing.

While some may revel in the lethargy of the week, I brood.  Don’t want to watch another Christmas movie, post Christmas, fat and flabby from the festive fare, hating the lack of sunshine and totally unmotivated.  This is when the gremlins come. The pixies of self doubt, another year looming and what are you going to do that is different, how to change the things you don’t like in your life, what will the new spiffing diary hold?  That is if you can actually read the diary in the half light.  Lack of Vitamin D.

This sunshine girl is all too aware of the sun shining somewhere else.  True, the weather has been the mildest Christmas I can recall, but when will the evening be later that four in the afternoon I beg – I plead, I have done the duty, been super positive, so please, please let the world begin again.

It is a dangerous time.  Despite feeling like a monk in a half lit seminary most of the time, it is a time coming close to the ending of the year and why I do not know, but for me, a time to look back and see the loss, the mistakes, the ‘God what happened to my life’ and being so very lonely in the fogginess of post Christmas, not quite New Year and the ghosts in-between. My ghosts don’t come at Christmas, I love Christmas, but descend around now, with the little to do, idle hands, idle thoughts and idle memories.  Am I alone in this?  Maybe if I could go snorkelling, or lie on a beach it would be different but London, love you as I do, you are stale post Christmas until the New Year starts.

All however is not lost. Though I feel loss more acutely at this time, danger is a good thing.  It is a motivator, a sifting of sorts.  The lull of this time is a motivation of self.  For one, I am packed. Still not sure where this one is going, but packed.  Moving on. Acceptance of the situation is at hand.  It is a driving time of saying ‘where am I at right now.’  ‘Where will I be going?’ ‘What will suit me when the bells chime on the brink of a New Year?’ ‘Will I be ready for the change in my life?’ And I will.

The lesson:  My dear friends keep saying ‘you are always like this betwixt Christmas and the New Year.  True. Am a Greek tragedy at this time, every, single year. Ever nostalgic for life before divorce, change in living circumstances, children all grown up and doing their own thing. Still lamenting parents gone – do we ever recover from it – and now, when the sun is missing and a longing for Spring deep, I am not going to succumb to the bleakness this time, in my little office on the balcony, but resolve to do the dangerous thing, in the dangerous time of this betwixt it all – I am going to change, absolutely everything. For good. Change the way I depend, rely and look for affirmation. And it is exciting.

The other day a friend asked me why I write about the not so great things. Most blogs are about yay, uppity and beautiful aspects in life, or alternatively about the down side of it, but I write about it all.  Times of just living, seeking, wondering, fretting, fearing and being so very part of the Silver Street part of our lives.  The changes – the not being the centre of a family anymore, the finding your children wanting to take charge at times, the not being the one to come to, admitting that sometimes, no I don’t know the latest technology and what is happening right now – but also, the one who knows what it was like, how lovely it was, how you meant the world.  And the change.  We have to adapt to the change. Life changes.  Parents die, children leave, relationships change.

And this is the dangerous time when it all comes home to roost because I have only my thoughts and the days fall from one into the other, the weather is close and dark and the calendar in flux with what to do until 2019.  The dangerous time. 

So, thanks for the invites for New Year celebrations, I am working.  On better and greater and what I shall become in the New Year.  Hope you are too …

We are going to take this time, this foggy time between Christmas and New Year to plan and deliver.

Dangerous for me … great for me. And for you.

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