Winter Sucks (Or How To Keep Seasonal Affective Disorder From Making You SAD)

Sweatshirt available at CatalogClassics.com
(Seriously! I found out about it 3 hours after this posted!)

It's been weirdly cold here in Central Texas for almost a week now -- we're in line for another hard freeze tonight. And it was cloudy and occasionally drizzly and gross for a few days. Cold, cloudy, gross. My allergies started acting up. I mostly just wanted to stay in bed with Netflix and the cats. It was hard not to get depressed until I dragged my sickly, shivering self through the mist to an open mic last night to perform some poetry & talk to friends and strangers alike in a cheap & cheerful bar.

Yes, the holidays are coming up, but along with Thanksgiving and whichever religious celebration you partake in (or don't) 'tis the season for Seasonal Affective Disorder. Whether it's because of the cold, damp ick that settles in for a while, because of allergies/colds/flu dragging you down, or because as more years pass, so do more loved ones, making the holidays feel lonelier, winter can really suck.

However, you're not powerless to make it suck less. These are things that have helped me during my long history of depression (which does tend to get worse during the bleak winter months):

1. Do something charitable. Take a few cans down to the local food bank, or donate something to a local toy drive. Gather up some things around the house that you don't need or use anymore and take them to Goodwill or a similar charity shop, and think of it as making room for incoming gifts. Find somewhere to do some volunteer work, which will not only help you feel like you're contributing to your fellow man but is an opportunity to have some human contact (see Tip #4).

I have a tiny Christmas
tree topped by a disco ball,
and I'm not sorry.

2. Don't stress out over having The Perfect Holiday. All the commercials say that this is the time of year for togetherness. Of course they also tell you that togetherness has to happen in a pristine house with an impossibly picturesque Christmas tree and a meal that took days to prepare though the hostess shows no signs of having been in the kitchen long enough to break a sweat. And of course all the presents have to be the newest, shiniest, most expensive toys -- even for grown-ups. Don't do this. Don't set expectations so high that your holiday will drown in disappointment like a piece of fudge accidentally dropped in the gravy boat. Don't try to out-Martha Stewart Martha Stewart if it just freaks you out. For the holidays, as for every other day, you do you.

3. Make homemade gifts for friends and family. Considering the state of the economy, this is almost a no-brainer. On top of that, people appreciate the time and effort that goes into making something yourself, whether it's a crocheted headband or a jar of pesto. And if you're fighting Seasonal Affective Disorder, spending time working on projects like this can help keep you busy and feeling purposeful.

4. Go out. Leave your house! Especially if you're living far from friends and family, the holidays can make isolation feel even more pronounced. Go to a coffeehouse and make conversation. Befriend your barista. Go listen to some live music and befriend a musician or aficionado. You're not alone in your loneliness, and your company can be a gift you offer to someone else who might be feeling as alienated as you are.

5. Accept some suckiness. When one of my best friends died when I was in my 20s, the holidays started to hurt because I missed being able to give her presents or be in her company at get-togethers. When one of my dear friends -- whose birthday is on Christmas Day -- passed away a couple of years ago, the holidays began to hurt more. The first Christmas after he passed, I didn't even put up a tree and sat like a zombie at my family's holiday dinner. The following year, I had a long discussion with myself and said, "Well, Christmas is just going to suck now, and you can either have a sparkly but sucky Christmas Day or an even more depressing, un-sparkly sucky Christmas Day. It's up to you." And I put up my tree and a few other decorations because I accepted that Christmas was going to be less pleasant than it had been before, and even if it would never be perfect, I could still try to make the most of it. As with Tip #2, I stopped being hung up on having The Perfect Holiday and aimed for the best holiday I could have, instead. I felt a lot better just knowing that I tried.

I have dealt with depression for most of my adult life, and I write this to ask others who might be suffering, particularly this time of year, to hang in there. Don't give up hope -- reach out to friends, family, even strangers/professionals if you find yourself unable to climb out of an abysmal state this season. This is part of a Facebook post I made after Robin Williams died, and I think it's a good reminder that if you're depressed, you are not alone and don't have to surrender to it:

Sometimes I think a certain degree of depression can be a gift -- it's the "strangeness in the proportion" that gives a person a different take on the world, that helps a person understand that this world is indeed temporary and that every one of is is going to die someday, though most people don't like to think about it and think you're weird if you do. That sense of urgency, and that sense of sorrow, can be fuel for a powerful fire. You look for the sweetness in life. You appreciate how rare and wonderful the beautiful and funny moments are. You run like hell from the darkness that's chasing you, toward humor and beauty and light. I think that's why it turns out that so many funny people are depressed -- we're not joking, we're fighting for our lives. And if you're lucky, really lucky, you can find a balance between the darkness and the light. You can stand on the edge, keep that fire burning, without getting sucked into the blackness. But sometimes you lose that balance. Sometimes you get too tired to keep running. And if you don't ask for help, if you don't find help, that's the end of you. But there is help, folks. There are friends. There are professionals. There are meds if you want/need to go that route. Every day that I wake up and find one thing that touches my heart or makes me laugh is a "fuck you" to the disease that could have taken me but didn't. Today I'm grateful that I found help -- the best group of friends a person could hope for, wonderful therapists, meds when my heart was too heavy for even these kind people to lift, and lifestyle changes that have made the struggle more manageable. When I find myself balancing on the edge, I don't stand there -- I dance.

Poetry bits

For me, the autumn so far has been the Season of Dancing, with Cabaret Dance Camp in mid-October and then a weekend-long workshop with Hossam and Serena Ramzy at Zein's Dance Studio in Austin, and now I have at least one performance coming up before the end of the year. Woo! But as autumn fades into what is currently a hard-freezing taste of winter, so my heart turns to words again. I'm going to the Triple Crown Open Mic this Sunday, the 16th, to read some of my bawdy poems that I don't usually perform -- pitch some woo at the crowd there & see what sticks. Plus, poetry and music used to be very closely related, so spouting out some words on stage at the live music hot spot just seems logical. If you're in town and want to come see, things get started at 7 p.m.

Also, I've just sent some pieces to The Literati Quarterly, the fantastically designed San Marcos-based arts journal. It is really well-designed and they have printed some quality work, so I'm hoping that at least one thing I've sent them is pleasing to the eye and ear. If you've got something you'd like to submit -- poetry, speculative fiction, animation, video, artwork, music, critiques, etc. -- the deadline for the next issue is Dec. 1. Check out their submissions page to find out more about what they're looking for and where to send it.

If you've never read or heard any of my poetry, here is a piece that's usually a crowd favorite, commonly known as "The Fat Businessman" although that's not its actual title, published at Asinine Poetry. They also included it in their podcast that month (scroll down to #86), with some hilarious sound effects.

People and music and San Martian stuff

Summer was a pretty rollicking season around here. San Marcos had its first Pride Weekend, and I am glad to know a few of the people involved in making that happen. In an inevitable display of small-town charm, the Pride Weekend festivities included a drag show at the VFW Hall. Here are a couple of pics from the parade downtown:

Some cops escorted the parade, some were in the parade

The Sun God shows his support

Though I don't have photos, I mentioned in a previous blog post that my friend Dave Shelton has been studying and giving workshops on the Nordic Runes and the subconscious. He has a great blog called Thorsdaeink.

And I promised pics of some of the bands I have been out to see over the past few months, so here they are. Most are from San Marcos, and all are spectacular. I've put links to Facebook pages and websites in the captions so you can find out more about these talented folks.

Molly J. Hayes of San Marcos, with her heartfelt singer-songwriter sounds

Conway the Whale, another local act offering impassioned folk

Captain M.A. Zing, yet another San Martian,
offering catchy rock from another planet
(with special guest percussionist on the suitcase)

Two-fifths of Chasca, San Marcos' local glam band, at their Halloween show

Brokestring and the Empty Promises, more tasty folk music
from San Marcos

Three-fifths of Chasca, San Marcos' local glam band,
at their Halloween show

San Marcos' melodic folk duo 4orms
on Halloween with special guest Armando on drums

Armando behind the drums again, this time
with the very rockin' Adrian in Austin over the summer

My absence, part 2: Doing the wrong things, or getting trapped in the Web

This is where I confess my secret: Hi, I'm Robin, and I'm an Internet addict. And possibly a rage-oholic. Because the time that I have spent online in between my adventures of the past few months has mostly been spent getting angry. I haven't been productive because I've been allowing myself to get sucked into the dark vortices of the Internet instead of trying to contribute some light to it.

I once described the Internet to a friend as "pretty much nothing but cats, porn and outrage." Which I realize is a bold and hypocritical statement for a blogger, but it's true -- or mostly true. I forgot misinformation and entire forums full of delusional people feeding each other's paranoia. That's on the Internet, too. Oh, and stalkers. How could I forget stalkers? I acquired one and had to shut down my old Twitter account, change passwords, do pre-emptive blocking on other social media sites. I'm sure he's found this blog by now -- hi, Robert! -- but I'm not going to let him take this away from me.

Anyway, back to my Internet problem, if not the Internet problem: It really messes with your head.

Humans are not meant to stare at glowing rectangles this much

Oversaturation: I don't know how many hours I have spent in the last 6 months online, letting strangers tell me what it is I should be pissed off about or terrified of on any given day. It's not that I'm anti-awareness or anti-news -- it's that if you see something often enough, it begins to take over your mind and your mood. Take street harassment. I know it's a problem. I've experienced it, and it's upsetting when it happens, and I try to talk to people about it so that they're aware of the problem and maybe try to help put an end to it. But if I read 20 articles about street harassment in a 48-hour period, suddenly I am ready to go ballistic in the real world. I am ready to snap at a casual acquaintance who tells me he likes my outfit. It becomes overload. The same thing happens with issues I'm only marginally interested in -- Twitter flame wars between celebrities I don't even pay that much attention to. Yet if they're arguing, and if half the people I know on social media are talking about it, or if there are "news" stories about it, all of a sudden it's like watching a soap opera that never rolls closing credits. It just keeps going. And so I keep watching. And it's a time suck and an energy suck and it adds nothing to my life or the lives of others.

This gives you a little endorphin surge?: "Likes" and "favorites" are like little virtual hamster treats we give each other's brains. Someone approves of something I said! Someone thinks a photo I took is nice! Yay! "Liking" and "favoriting" is nice and all, and the sentiment is appreciated, but it's lazy on the part of the "liker" and far too important to the receiver of the "like." ("Likeee? Isn't that some kind of fruit?) I find myself getting either smug or depressed about how many "likes" my posts get on Facebook and Instagram. Favorites and retweets on Twitter don't mean that much to me if for no other reason than there is such a fast and vast stream of information on Twitter that things get lost in the flow; I halfway don't expect anybody to see anything I post there. But oh, God, if I don't get that approval, that external validation, of my life as presented on other social media, it actually -- if briefly -- affects my mood. And it's stupid. And I know it's stupid. Which is why I'm cautioning you about letting it affect you, too.

THE YEAR IS 2016. FACEBOOK DOWN FOR TWO YEARS NOW. AMERICA'S NEW MOMS ROAM THE STREETS. IS MY BABY PRETTY? THEY SAY. PLEASE LIKE MY BABY.
— Mark Agee (@MarkAgee) August 1, 2014

Is this the real life? Is it just fantasy?: The other night, some friends were joking, "I'm gonna send you a friend request in real life!" Maybe we should all start doing that more. Back in the days of Livejournal, I imagined that social media would be a great supplement to real-life relationships. People you don't get to see that often, you can still communicate with and keep up with, and people you see all the time, you can make plans to do stuff in real life. Instead, more people seem to be settling for the online experience of a friendship than actually taking the time to see each other face-to-face. Social media has become a substitute for social life, and it can get frustrating. I work at home. I am here and awake sometimes 12 hours a day. Don't Facebook message me -- call me and let's go have a cup of tea.

Facebook drama: I won't even go into detail but oh, dear God, the things I have seen ... Facebook is the perfect place to willfully misunderstand a stranger's comment and assume it means the worst possible thing, then take out your anger on that stranger who meant something completely different. It is also great for passive-aggressiveness, making everything all about you, spreading misinformation and having temper tantrums. (I have been guilty of some of these things in the past, I know.) And then there's "vaguebooking." Example: You stub your toe on the coffee table for the third time in a week. You post: "You bastard, how many times are you going to hurt me?!?!?!?!?!!!" And all your friends come to your virtual rescue and tell you how awesome you are because fuck that guy. Facebook is wonderful for keeping up with friends and planning events and sharing pictures and remembering good times, but it is also fraught with crazy, and thus it can make you crazy.

Even Tom gets sucked into the Web.

Comments on YouTube and everything else: If you ever think you might have developed too much faith in humanity, just read the comments section on any YouTube video and really, just about any article posted online. You will see the weirdest, angriest, most irrational things come out of people's fingertips and onto the glowing rectangle in front of you. If there's a video of Shirley Temple singing "Animal Crackers," there is probably a comment underneath it about how the Ebola virus is opening the Seventh Seal, Miley Cyrus and the Duck Dynasty dude are raising opposing armies in preparation for a psychic war, and Jesus will be coming back to throw (pick a politician) into the depths of Hell. Why are these people spewing hatred and delusion? And the bigger question, why am I reading it?

And finally ...

Nobody knows how to act in public anymore: We do everything online. We watch movies and TV online. We socialize online. We play games online. As a result, we act like the whole world is our living room. The sense of etiquette and decorum, of basic manners, is disappearing because after spending so much time eating popcorn in our underwear while chatting with friends online, we are socially dysfunctional now.

So this is the other reason why I haven't been blogging lately: The Internet got my mind. I plan on backing away from large parts of it and not seeking out things that piss me off (which, let's be honest, will be easier now that the election is over).

There are plenty of good things online and on social media -- it is great for making plans with friends, there are a lot of educational websites and things like TED Talks and online shopping and lectures and books and videos and music and marvelous things. And blogging allows a person to share her life with other people and maybe say something that resonates with or makes a difference to somebody else. But for the past six months I have been doing a lot of the wrong things online. I've actually made myself a "Not To Do" list, and it includes not reading comments on YouTube videos and online articles, along with not spending more than 9 hours a day online during the week (I work online for 8 hours, and I give myself more time online if I'm writing or doing something creativity-related). This fantastic innovation is a marvelous thing, and it has its place and function, but it can also suck the humanity right out of you if you let it. Don't let it. Now get up and call a friend!

A quick note - poetry open mic tonight!

I am dragging my tired old ass back onto the stage at San Marcos Poetry Night at Wake the Dead. The shindig starts at 7:30. Come enjoy the talents of local poets! I've really only got one poem I'm planning on doing, but that could change depending on where the night takes me.

My absence, part 1: Doing the right things

I can't believe it's been six months since the last time I wrote a blog post. Well, actually I can ...

First, life got in the way. Recovering from the kind of heartbreak that makes a person rethink her approach to love, to life and to herself, I took a three-day retreat at a spa and resort up on Lake Travis. There, spent a lot of time alone, thinking, writing, walking around in nature, eating healthy food and enjoying the extra brain bandwidth that comes from being in an environment where I didn't have to make very many decisions. My food was prepared, my room was cleaned daily, there was a set schedule of activities, and I didn't have to worry about a thing. As I told my dad, it was an expensive vacation, but the only other place I could think of where other people would take that much care of me and just let me wander around pondering things is a mental hospital, and the spa and resort seemed less complicated to get into and out of.

Nathan Fillion photo op.
I forgot every word I know in 2 languages.

After three days on the edge of a wilderness preserve, I drove up to Dallas to be around people again. Throngs of people. Specifically, throngs of people at the Dallas Comic-Con. More specifically, Nathan Fillion. Who's just one guy but has all the power a of a throng. Honestly, after a bad breakup, standing next to Nathan Fillion for even 30 seconds is a marvelous thing for a geekish girl like me.

Dancing at Euro Cafe

And then there was the belly dance solo. I had been wanting to dance to the arrangement of "Kashmir" that Jimmy Page and Robert Plant did with Hossam Ramzy back in the '90s for what felt like forever. I had fallen too far behind on the choreography we were learning in belly dance class to catch up before our big performance, so I went on hiatus from class and stayed at home, coming up with choreography to the first 4 1/2 minutes of the song. I had a couple of private lessons with my teacher to show her what was doing and get some advice and ideas, and by the end of the summer, I had a solo. I danced it for the first time at my teacher's free monthly show here in town. A bunch of my friends came to support me, which was awesome, and I did a good job of dancing -- didn't freak out, didn't forget anything, didn't trip over my own feet and land in anybody's lap. And my first performance of my first solo did wonders for my confidence level and frankly made me love dance even more. Since this summer, I've been to Cabaret Dance Camp -- four days of dance workshops and sharing cabins at a camp on the Guadalupe River -- and a two-day workshop with Hossam and Serena Ramzy up in Austin, and I'm now working on choreographing a drum solo.

In August, which is typically the crappiest month of the year for me -- there's a long history of death and destruction in August -- I managed to get and stay productive. I went to a creativity workshop based on the main ideas in "The Artist's Way," and that helped me kind of unblock some things with my writing and gave me a lot to think about. I've been doing Morning Pages every day since the workshop and in some ways, that's left me with less to say online, but considering the kind of nonsense that comes out every morning, it's probably good that none of that is ending up online! And my friend Dave began a series of workshops on the Nordic Runes and how they relate to the subconscious. I have been fascinated with runes as divination tools and as writing since I was in high school, so I've found Dave's ideas to be fascinating and valuable.

At the Poe Cottage in The Bronx.
This is the nicest place in The Bronx.

In September, to get out of my own head for a little while, I visited a friend in New York City, where I saw Robert Plant in concert, stood inches away from Ewan McGregor in a boutique in the East Village, had tea in the "Physical Graffiti" building (which houses the Physical Graffi-Tea tea shop), visited the Edgar Allan Poe cottage and the Fordham campus in the Bronx, saw a ton of art and had a marvelous rooftop dinner involving coq au vin, three bottles of champagne and some pears flambed in bourbon. Oh, yes indeed.

Zepparella at Red 7
in Austin

And of course, in between all of this traveling and other frolicking, I have gone out to see a lot of live music -- a lot of rock 'n' roll, and a lot of other stuff. It's all been good for my soul, and I've met some pretty amazing people along the way. I'll be posting some pics from some of the shows I've seen later.

Anyway, all of this getting back in touch with myself and the world around me is a good part of why it has been so long since I have blogged. But just as San Marcos is my rock, my home base, that makes me feel free to travel knowing I will have a little paradise to come back to, so this blog is my home base -- something to return to after many flights of fancy and exercises in spreading my wings and fleeing from my comfort zone. Plus, all that time away has given me plenty of material.

However, there is another side to why I haven't blogged in so long, and the post about that will be coming soon.