Speeding through the Season?

A wonderful thing happened.

As my body began to recover from 6 sessions of intensive immune-system-busting chemotherapy in the summertime of this year, I gradually began to (to quote my husband) “come back to life.”

It sounds dramatic, and maybe it is.

But as time got further away from the intensive 3-drug chemotherapy sessions, my attention span improved and I started reading full books again. I started growing sunflowers on a whim, and they became a ridiculous joy. I couldn’t take enough photos of their loveliness. I got in and splashed around in the apartment complex pool with the boys most bright summer days. I tried my hand at crafty friendship style beaded bracelets for a certain political candidate I wanted to see become president. (Sigh, no regrets.) I joined a gym and started going, with goals of rebuilding strength and stamina, making it about 5 days a week unless appointments got in the way.

I found myself not just thinking about what it would be like to do the things.

I had the actual energy to do the things!

And being engaged … having energy… and that pace. The pace of someone who’d started coming “back to life”?

It just felt good.

Really good.

And keep that in mind, as I pivot a bit.

So therapy professionals (often and those who’ve been in it) are, at least in my experience, fond of the word “season.”

Because to everything, there is a season, right?

We like metaphors. We like to recognize beginnings. Endings. Periods of intense new goings-on. Eras where our roles change. Times when we have special and unique relationships.

And “season” can be tossed around for a lot of those experiences.

Except today, I’m thinking about literal seasons.

A midwest gal (minus a few dalliances out west) since birth, I am familiar with inhabiting 4 distinct seasons.

I know the soggy fickle hopefulness of spring…

… the bright warm breezy days of summer, with it’s crisp starry nights…

… the crisp, fragrant turn of a million shades of color in fall …

… and the darker, shorter days of winter where the sky defaults to gray, the air turns sharp and brisk and ordinary landscapes become blustering wind tunnels.

Yeah, that last one.

THAT’S where we are now.

And while I just finished ALL the chemo earlier this week (yes, the milder version that came after the aforementioned big bad 6-session version) THANK YOU VERY MUCH, I have noticed energy shifts in this very real seasonal season.

Have I dealt with some unidentifiable ick and viruses this season?

Yes, our household has, and that’ll tire you out.

But this is a different shift.

This has to do with the adjusted clock. The “why is it eerily dusky at 4:30?” feeling. The “if I have to go out in clothes that aren’t pajamas after 6pm, I’m probably not coming” instinct.

Frankly, it’s the season of wishing we could eat our fill and hibernate until spring.

And our culture has somehow demanded we use this time to

• transform our home into a winter wonderland,
• plan extra outings to see the Christmas concerts, plays and recitals like the Nutcracker, and attend a bevy of extra church services,
• host and/or attend holiday meals and parties,
• shop and spend til we drop, wrap it all up, and acquire a tree to put it all under,
• make cookies, write out cards, watch all of our favorite movies,
• travel to see loved ones near and far

…. And I am sure there are other obligations that you may feel have been hoisted upon you too.

To be clear: these aren’t bad things. Many of them are very joyful things!

But they are also hard to say no to.

Even the Christmas music I love to listen to in the car is interrupted by speed-talking advertisers who want me to get new cell phone plans and weight loss drugs and think I should attend every event there is.

And for me, therein lies the tension between my slowing-down seasonal rhythmic instincts and the noise-noise-noise (do you read this in the Grinch’s voice? You should) that permeates everything we see/do/experience in December.

I don’t think I’m the Grinch. I really do love the holidays and celebrating.

But I don’t love the speed. The pack-it-all-in, go-go-go do it all experience it all speed.

Despite the demands, it’s just not the season for it anymore.

After I joined the gym I go to, I was proud of getting there 4 or 5 days a week, usually out by 10:30 in the morning. I could finally see it in a new way – as something I *get* to do instead of have to do or feel guilty about not doing. (Cancer will help shift some stubborn perspectives, at least in my experience!)

But now, on these cold mornings, I sit with my coffee longer.

I scroll longer.

I play games a little longer.

I putz around and pick up and organize a little extra.

And while it felt exactly what I needed…

I was getting annoyed with myself for not “getting going” earlier.

Gym time moved into later morning… sometimes even into early afternoon. And sometimes, on Sunday, it turned into a longer-than-expected nap time instead! (Gasp!)

An anxious voice in my head nagged at me.

It said that I might get “out of the habit” and start not showing up as much. Or that I might completely lose my mojo and drop it like an ADHDer goes hard hard hard and then drops a fixation like it somehow personally and deeply offended them.

It also told me, “You won’t have enough time! You won’t beat the kids home.” And helpful ideas, “If it’s dark, you’ll know you won’t want to go!”

Well played, anxious voice.

But here’s the thing. It’s ok.

(And yes – I know, currently at this time, I have the privilege of some unscheduled time that many folks do not have.)

The thing is: I can trust myself.

And it’s not because I am some weird marvel who always make perfect wonderful decisions. Or because I just always manage my time like an organizational pro.

Nope.

But I can trust myself to linger a little. To slow down, curl up, and grab a blanket. To listen to the news, or read a chapter of a book, while I sip my coffee. To make myself an actual breakfast and to chat with a friend over messenger.

… and to know that I’ll still show up for the gym, or for whatever is important to me.

Slowing down isn’t as much about digging a hole for hibernating and hiding away as it is about slowing down the pace so I am more likely to do the things that bring me joy and satisfaction.

And so that I don’t resent the very real joys of the holidays.

Think about it. When frost and freezing slushy crud happens and your car in encased in a layer of god-knows-what, do you start the engine and just tear off, regardless?

No.

You turn on the defroster, the heat. You get that bum-warmer on (assuming you have one – I never did before my current car, and believe me, 4-season midwest girl is NOT going back to life without!). You let it begin to thaw. You brush off the snow. You scrape the ice so you can see out your windows. You don’t speed down the bad roads. You give yourself more time to brake. You give other drivers a little more space.

You take the time to be ready for what the season is throwing at you.

Likewise, let’s say you *are* home. When you make a cup of hot peppermint tea or a ladle warm potato-corn chowder into a bowl, do you slam it? Chug it? Take three big bites, lick your fingers, and be done with it?

No. (And please do NOT slam a bowl of soup!)

You sip it. You breathe it in. You savor it. You let it warm your throat, clear your sinuses, and eventually it takes the chill from your body. It doesn’t just nourish you; it has a way of changing your way of being.

So though it may be hard – and like I said, I get nagging doubts sometimes too – I’m going to try to honor the shorter, darker, colder days with compassion, a slower pace, and a trust that I’m going to show up for what matters.

This morning that looked like rolling into the gym a little late after watching a little tv, doing some laundry, and taking my time to get ready. And then an extra long shower as a reward for actually going out there into that bitter chill!

When the world says speed-speed-speed/do-do-do, I’m talking back. With compassion. I’m telling myself it’s okay to honor the seasonal shift and move a little slower, dress a little cozier, and trust myself.

(Even if I do end up taking a nap.)

To everything there is a season!