Thanksgiving? It was Mixed.

So how was my Thanksgiving, you ask.

It was really nice. The family was here. We reminisced about the past and tried to predict the future. The turkey was moist. I tried a new stuffing recipe that was a wild mix of ingredients, but it worked. Peace and harmony reigned.

That's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.

I don't know about your family, but mine is no Norman Rockwell painting. We are a bunch of strong willed, and sometimes confused individuals, whose views about the present and recollections about the past don't always jibe. I'd be inclined to keep that family business to myself, but I know that my experience is not that different from yours. Families that epitomize the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving are either extremely rare and fortunate, or they are just a figment of our collective imagination. I'm inclined to believe the latter.

For most of us, the good parts of Thanksgiving were mixed with some degree suffering. I have friends who were sad and bewildered to be out of their usual element this Thanksgiving. Others were furious to be stuck in the same lousy rut as always. I heard many stories of loneliness from clients separated by miles, death, or conflict from the ones they love. Some had no one to share the holiday. Many wished there were no holiday at all.

I believe we create much of our own Thanksgiving disappointment through unrealistic expectations. We expect the day to be special, our family to be better than it is, and all our feelings to be positive. We forget that life is an ambiguous and complex mix.

Just as we create our own disappointment, we can create our own joy. Let's consider changing our thinking to reflect reality:

• Our families aren't perfect. Neither are we.
  
• We can't have perfect love in our hearts. It's imperfect at best.
  
• Even the best relationships have ambivalent feelings within them.
  
• The people we love don't live forever, but can live in our hearts.
  
• Children grow up and move away. That's what we raised them to do.
  

So, how was my Thanksgiving? Mixed. As mixed as my stuffing recipe. Yours?

copyright 2007 starfishdoc

SAD, but not for long

"Oh mister sun, sun, mister shiny sun..."

It's been raining for five straight days, thunderstorms in the mix last night and today. When it is cloudy for more than three days in a row, I begin to feel down-- my own personal Seasonal Affective Disorder.

I saw only tiny glimpses of it before moving to Maine. Much as I love it here, winter is much longer and grayer than it was just a couple of states south. To add to the misery, winter is followed by a beige spring that Mainers call "mud season." And if you want to know what mud season is like, a local TV commercial compares it to having a colonoscopy. In short, plenty of dull days, colored with my least favorite crayons in the box.

"Won't you please shine down, oh won't you please shine down, oh won't you please shine down on me........"

The first time, it hit me as a really bad case of the blues. I rounded up the usual suspects looking for a reason. There was nothing I could put my finger on. That's the earmark of SAD: no apparent cause. And despite years of helping others with SAD, I couldn't see it in myself. (It was D who suggested SAD as the explanation for my melancholy. Thank you D.)

"Oh mister sun, sun, mister shiny sun, hiding behind that tree...."

I knew he was right instantly. What to do about it? I could take the advice I've given to clients many times and order a light box, but that would take days. My misery was NOW.

Well, at the same time, I was trying to set up my craft studio. I thought it would do me good to stick to my plans, despite my mood. So armed with my list of hardware needs, I headed to Home Depot. Pushing yourself to accomplish things when you're down helps.

But serendipitously, something else turned out to be the miracle I needed. Among my purchases were two four-foot workshop lights. You know, the fluorescent ones that come encased in the ugly, aluminum-waffle reflectors. I spent the afternoon hanging them from the ceiling. By evening I was working on a little project under the lights. After a couple of hours I noticed that my mood had lifted. I felt back to normal.

"This old gal is a-tellin' you, to sunshine she will ever be true...."

I was really struck by the power of bright lights to bring my mood around. Sure, there are other things that I can recommend to you to lift your mood when you're down, from vitamins to antidepressants. But I must say that the simplest, cheapest, most readily-available and quick-acting remedy I've found are bright fluorescent lights.

So now, when the days are consistently gray, you'll find me spending as much time as possible in my studio under the lights. Oh, yeah, and also singing the "Mister Sun" song Sister Benedicta taught me in third grade.

"So mister sun, sun, mister shiny sun,
Won't you please shine down, oh won't you please shine down, oh won't you please shine down on me!"

Copyright 2007 starfishdoc