I hate summer. I know that it is really odd to hate summer. I mean who on earth hates summer in Canada? Winter should be the season we all hate but not me. It's goofy, but life took a turn and I kind of hate summer.
It isn't a serious depression or even a mild version of ptsd. It is just a sort of gentle soft sorrow that rears its delicate little head many more times than is usual on any given day. It is always there, but at this time of year, I really have to work on it to keep it from becoming life.
The best thing for me so far, is just to keep busy by stretching my mind and doing something just a bit different (Road trips leave you a lot of time to think) and shifting my day around seems to help as much as anything. Jolting me out of my long established routine works.
So this morning, I am getting my errands and routine chores done really early in the day. This afternoon, I am going to wash some fleece. The rest of the week should be warm enough and sunny enough to dry them quickly. Next week will be carding.
Then, this evening, I will knit, like a normal person, in the evening. Going to bed at 7:30 is just not acceptable and that has happened more than once in the last few weeks as this season approached. When it is close to bedtime, I will sit down and write about my day rather than doing it in the morning and discussing my plans. It may take a bit of work and effort to adjust to evening writing again, but I have done it before and it will work again.
So if things seems a bit weird here for the next bit as I adapt, run with it. I have to.