It's March (sigh)

I'm not sure what to call it. Seasonal Affect. The winter blahs. Cabin fever. Whatever it is...March hits me hard. Has for the last twelve years, at least. "Are you exercising?" "Getting enough sleep?" "Drinking plenty of water?" Mind your own d@mn business, I scream in my head as I softly smile at these brilliant inquiries. "It's really just mind over matter," helpful people inform me. "Think positive! Count your blessings!" F*!k you, I bite back, swallowing my own words. I cannot explain it nor do I want to. A giant weight presses down on me...my vision feels clouded...sound is submerged...thoughts and responses are on a painful 3-second delay...my muscles ache...I am SO tired. My treatment of tears, tantrums, and tequila have yet to be successful but they are the only weapons in my repertoire.  "I have an essential oil for that!" I will bury you, I shriek mentally, and sprinkle your essential oils over the grave!

My husband noticed I was wearing a new shirt the other morning and made the mistake of commenting on it. "I see you're wearing your new shirt," he said thoughtlessly. The b@$t@!d. Naturally, I started screaming at him. I cry in my truck on the ride home from work...regularly. I have trouble taking deep breaths...strangling on the shallow ones that lack the ability to adequately fill my lungs. I don't want you to fix me. I just want you to leave me alone.

March is hard for my friend Erin because it is hard on me. My usual snark becomes snappish; my sarcasm sharper...yet she draws closer; certain that her sunshine can pervade the darkness that envelopes me. I am the girl hiding under the bed in Taken and it is Erin who doggedly grasps my heels and pulls me out as I fight and flail at her. I disappear and she finds me. I slink down the hall and she steps into my path for a hug. I stand there stiffly, waiting for it to end...enduring it because I love her. And she whispers into my ear, "This is where you hug me back," and I vaguely remember how to be human and allow her to shoulder my weight for a moment.

We go to war in March. Erin realizing that I now just wave the white flag to the cold depression that seeps like an unrelenting mist under February's closing door and she refuses to surrender her friend without a fight. I rally for her. She sings and I try not to sulk. Spirit Days are scheduled and she cheers when I organize my entire class to be clad in protest black. The self-reflecting room is a monument to our battling memes...Erin carefully tipping the scales in my favor. For her...my faked smile is better than no smile at all. I'm given space but am not allowed to vanish for too long. The whys don't matter to Erin. All that matters to her are the what can I dos. I wait for March to be over...enduring each day through gritted teeth. "But Spring is nearly here!" someone will say encouragingly, not realizing how close they are to being punched in the face. Erin plans for March...counting down the days with me while trying to make each one a little bit more bearable. She tries SO hard and because of that, I have to try too. D@mn her.