When this realization struck, I took a few minutes to think about the ways in which my self care has gone off the rails the last few weeks   My [...]]]> I realized today that for the third time in a week, I forgot to take my meds this morning.  This is not good.

When this realization struck, I took a few minutes to think about the ways in which my self care has gone off the rails the last few weeks   My appetite has been all over the map, so some days I’ve been eating enough to sustain me through a long hibernation, while others I just haven’t been hungry at all to the point of forgetting meals.  My sleep has been even more effected.  I’m exhausted in the morning, and if I don’t set an alarm I will sleep until noon (and could sleep longer if I don’t force myself out of bed).  My energy is low all day, and doesn’t pick up until 10 pm, making it hard to get to sleep before 3 am.

Of course, the whole thing is a cascading clusterf***.  It begins with oversleeping, so if I remember to take my meds I’m taking them at noon, meaning they don’t wear off until late evening, and then my meals are all off by a few hours, and forgetting to take my meds wreaks havoc with my appetite, so I’m a bit spacey all day, until I hit my late-night energy surge and can’t go to sleep when I’d like.

Now, I’m of a pagan-y turn of mind, which means that I like to mark the turning of the seasons in some way, however simple.  This year, I haven’t done my equinox ritual.  Pondering this fact, I realized that it’s due at least in part my reluctance to engage with the diminishing sunlight.  As the daylight fades, so does my brain, and I resent this like hell.

Resentment does not change the earth’s axial tilt, or any other inconvenient fact of astrophysics. But pretending the resentment isn’t there just because it’s irrational doesn’t make it go away.  I know from past experience that if I don’t stop and take stock every now and again, if I don’t realign myself with the natural world, if I try to pretend that my non-rational spiritual needs can just be reasoned away, there will be hell to pay.

So I did my equinox ritual.  I sat in my art studio, which has the least natural light in the house (yeah, I know), and fixed myself a healthy lunch because I needed to eat, even though I wasn’t conscious of being hungry.  I lit some candles and sat in front of them.  I made my lunch into a ritual meal, and as I ate I focused on my need to take care of myself.  I admitted to myself that I’m angry about the shorter days, that I’ve been sort of in denial about this fact, and that I was trying to carry on as if nothing was happening.  I admitted to myself that the world around me is turning inward to rest up for Spring, and that this has very real and profound effect on my body.  As the world around me slows down, so must I; I must be slower and more conscious in my daily habits.  I need to take care of myself.

As the fog rolled in, slowly dimming the sunlight and making the room even darker, I sat and enjoyed my lunch.  Instead of framing my thoughts in terms of what has to get done today, I thought about what might be in the best interests of my body.  I rested.  Then I closed the window against the cold, damp autumn, and withdrew to the warmth and light of my home.