Wednesday, September 7, 2016

We are comfortable and not particularly talkative. Small talk between us has become unnecessary. The day is punctuated by kisses, holding hands, laughter, soft remarks, pet names. And by the end of the day we have settled into shared silence. Comfortable, though now searching for external stimulus - a friends laugh, another conversation to join, more voices. 

Withal, once joined by others, our affection for each other is reignited. The gestures between us become stronger. Sweeter. As if reminded of how we feel by viewing the relationship from the newcomers eyes. The external stimulus has served its purpose - a reminder of our own preferred company for one another. A readying to renenter our shared world as a duo. 

Thursday, September 1, 2016


The whole concept that our moods and bodies change with the seasons isn’t bullshit but it can be easy to forget.

At the beginning of every winter, like everyone, I lose the energy to do anything and crave pasta, sugar, donuts…anything that’ll enable my body to stockpile cells of fat…
My laziness and indulgence plague me with guilt for at least a month. It always takes around four weeks to realise the cold weather is a legitimate excuse for my lethargy and come to accept it as unchanging. I can entertain no notion of physical activity and instead spend hours in bed with episodes of the original 90210.

By the end of winter, the carb loading has taken it’s toll, my appetite and need for rest show no sign of abdication and my acceptance turns to impatience. The last fortnight of winter is a juxtaposition of forcefully trying to fight the natural urge to hibernate - frantic gym joining, salad eating and misery enduring while simultaneously cramming in the last vestiges of winter allowances - pasta dinners, dessert ordering, doona burrito-ing and trackpant wearing. 

By this tine the depression has also begun to set in. Unsatisfied at work. Creatively stifled. Restricted by winter clothing. Whether the laying low has finally started taking its toll or my skin is just desperate for vitamin D, I don’t know, but by the end of winter I am seriously contemplating anti depressants. I do this every year. Like PMS, I only notice it in hindsight.

It is the first day of Spring today. After three months of gagging at the idea of a raw vegetable, I sat down at lunch, in the sun, with a paleo vegetarian quiche and didn’t want to murder myself or a king sized kit kat afterward. I bought ingredients to make Gado Gado for dinner. I didn’t baulk at the idea of going out to the dance class I’d booked myself into at 730pm. I went home, sat down in the light filled lounge room and worked for a couple of hours without falling asleep on the couch or into a pit of depression and for the first time in a month my mind felt clear and life, manageable. I wasn’t even surprised by it. I just felt relieved and a little silly that I’d failed to remember the intrinsic link between my psyche and the seasons yet again. That it was just the end of winter. And it’s passed.