Public Humiliation: The Antidote to Depression - January 22, 2006

My friend Kristi was the first blogger I ever met, and I got so excited about the prospect that I started my own blog over a year ago. Well, Kristi works from home, and fairly quickly her time in front of the computer at home killed the lure for her to spend yet more time in front of her screen for leisure.

Well, guess what. I am now working from home, spending hours in front of the computer working for a Market Analysis company…..and ta daaaaaa… I haven’t written a blog for a month.

Also, I think my lack of attention to creative outlets has a lot to do with this time of the year. I’ve mentioned before that I suffer (and I should clarify that it’s really my family that suffers the most) from a pretty hefty case of S.A.D. I figured out a few years ago that every time I’ve left a relationship, gotten dissatisfied with a job, moved houses….it’s been this time of year. In fact, I read today that January 24, 2007, a mere two days from now, is the most depressing day of the year. Seriously.

I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I obviously think it has to do with the winter weather, primarily. The unending darkness of the Northwest ~ and actually, this has been the crappiest winter we’ve had in the six years we’ve lived year. Also, I’m guessing it’s pretty common to be facing the reality and consequences of holiday spending, and stressing about catching up financially, as well as experiencing the letdown of the post holiday frenzy of activity. I have many consecutive days that I wish I could crawl back under the covers and not have to face another day of rain, sleet, snow and routine. I know that while days technically get longer after Dec. 21, cyclonic weather systems take hold in January, bringing low, dark clouds, snow, slush and crud to my idyllic little island.

My other theory is that the majority of people break their healthy resolutions six to seven days into the new year, and even the hangers-on have fallen off the wagon, torn off the nicotine patches and eaten the fridge empty by the third week. Any residual dregs of holiday cheer and family fun have kicked the bucket by Jan. 24.

So, I’ve started working maniacally, and scheduling myself silly to keep moving. Yesterday I took a ski lesson. We have our kids in the same 8-week ski program that they were in last year and they ROCK. It’s every Sunday afternoon, and I really look forward to it. So, yesterday I booked a ski lesson with Sven again. (Actually his name was Jarad this time) and totally pushed myself. And then, of course, the inevitable happened. I cannot take on anything without performing some hideous publicly humiliating act. Before the lesson started, I ran back into the lodge to give Becky some cash for lunch (she wasn’t snowboarding yesterday) and ran right through a puddle on the cafeteria floor and did a TOTAL banana peel flip into a table and flat on my butt. I kicked chair over, and slammed my arm into someone’s lunch. Yeah, that’s class.

So, after popping up as quickly as possible with the standard, “I’m okay!” smile to all the gawkers, I headed out for my lesson. So, Sven and I got up to the top of the mountain and ran through some basics before heading to this black diamond run full of moguls at about an 80 degree incline. I was a little sore from my spill in the lodge, but adrenaline was taking over so I got halfway down (yay, me!) before falling. The fall wasn’t too bad, I had to fish one of my poles out of a hill, knowing as I slid across the slope that one false move was going to send me ass over teakettle down the mountain. However, crisis averted, I got right back up and skied to the halfway point to catch up with my instructor. I stood there smiling at my success, and listening to Sven sing my praises before we both noticed that my pants had fallen down. Like, literally. Fallen. Down. Now, of course I had a pair of black leggings underneath, so it could have been MUCH worse. But still. There was absolutely no discrete way of putting my poles down, hiking up my ski pants, sucking in my gut to snap my pants and zip them. Nervous giggle. Heh heh. I’m like ten years older than the Sven and I pretty much wanted to die.

Sigh. So, it’s Monday. And it’s January. I think I’ll go out and embarrass myself some more. Oh, and I’m sure adding some physical pain to it will definitely keep things exciting.