Surviving February

The Longest Shortest Month of the Year

It’s time to bid a pleasant, even joyous, adieu to the shortest but absolutely longest month of the year. February is historically brutal on me. This year has been no exception, just different. I’ve discovered that grief holds greater powers than seasonal affective disorder. But grief can also override depression because to move through it, the process is different.

Even before Jim’s shocking death in early November I was arming myself for February. I purchased two “Happy Lamps,” one for the office and the other for home to provide an hour or two of warm bathing sunlight no matter what nature offered outside. I set a soothing exercise plan rather than the more rigorous exercise I engage in the rest of the year.  A strict bedtime was set. I was ready to fight this winter before it even started.

But Jim’s death changed a lot. My lethargy, depression, lack of energy all needed to be pushed aside because there was a family—my family—that was suffering greatly and a mother who lost her youngest child. If you’ve ever heard, and most have, the worst thing a life can bring is the experience of burying one’s child, it is Truth. Watching my Mom’s pain and suffering and pure unbridled raw emotion has been almost more than I can bear but truth is it kept me going in my darkest hours of the dreaded month of February.

Perhaps the most powerful action has been dropping to my knees once a day in my sunroom and praying. Prayer has never been a regular part of my life. I’m not even sure who or what I’m praying to but I can say the act of prayer has opened up my senses in a divine way, allowing me to see insights and perhaps answers that I never would have sensed otherwise.  To see things due to my heightened sensory that I would have otherwise missed has been a powerful life experience.  And in 15 hours February 2011 will be history.