Getting the Most from January Doldrums, Spoon River Poetry Review Surprise, the Benefits of Downtime

What are Doldrums Good For?

Ah, January Doldrums – have you caught them yet? Like the cold that’s been dragging me around for a couple of weeks, like the resolutions you might already feel you’ve let yourselves down with, like the seemingly endless cold, short days – the doldrums can be tough to avoid and sap your energy. This is the time for extra self-care, from taking vitamin C to drinking hot chocolate by a fire to streaming something uplifting or finally cracking open that book you’ve had on your bedside table for a while. See? The doldrums can be good for some things. We humans like to be busy, but something about January – either a bout of the flu, or the bad weather – forces us to slow down and be quiet. It’s a good time to refocus, to cast aside clothes that no longer fit and goals that no longer fit, to look forward to spring (mulching never seemed so optimistic.)

January surprise – Spoon River Poetry Review

Glenn took me out to the local bookstore to cheer me up, and we decided to browse the literary magazine section. Glenn picked up a copy of Spoon River Poetry Review – which I’d never seen at this particular bookstore before, at random, and said, “Jeannine – your name is in here!” Spoon River Poetry Review published a long and interesting essay on apocalyptic poetry in its latest issue, which quoted quite a bit from a guest post I did on apocalypse poetry a while ago on Trish Hopskinson’s blog. And here’s Sylvia posing fetchingly with the issue, which is really very good. It was a reminder that I don’t necessarily know and read all the good journals out there, that I don’t really know what influences people when I write (is anybody out there? Is the usual feeling I get from writing blog posts, lol.) That surprises can find us in unexpected places and unexpected ways.

Cue: The Benefits of Downtime, or Why Not to be Productive ALL the Time

So the last several days I’ve been beaten into submission by the combo of the following: the aforementioned cold, a nasty root-cap – which averted a root canal – and my first full crown – sans novocaine as usual and ahem super painful even for me and my superhero-like dental pain tolerance, a little flare up of my MS symptoms, and short dark days with weather that could charitably be described at “sullen.” This has led me to 1. watch way more movies and listen to more audiobooks than usual (as reading has been impossible with a little double-vision/migraine 1-2 punch) 2. think about things to do to help myself be as healthy as possible (hello, vitamin D gummies and new soup recipes!) and 3. be still and breathe, which is something I resist automatically unless dramatically forced into it. I’m not a yoga person, I hate meditation. When I’m stuck in hospital beds or out in nature, I’m not silent – I typically sing! (I was even singing a little in the dentist’s chair, thanks to ativan and Aimee Mann and Beyonce.) I’m extroverted and a do-er, not a be-er. It’ s the opposite of all the spiritual advice I’ve ever read – and particularly un-useful for someone with chronic illness. I have several “get-er-done” overachieving friends with chronic illnesses that I constantly have to shut my mouth to keep from advising them to “do less” when they suffer side effects from overdoing even though I hate getting that advice myself. Getting comfortable with “doing nothing” is tough. But I’ve noticed it yields insights – into destructive behavior patterns, long-held beliefs that aren’t helpful, etc – that absolutely nothing else does. Outside right now – at 1 AM -thanks steroids! – the wind is making a lot of “look at me” noise in the trees, icy hail pellets are bouncing off the deck, and I’m pretty sure it got dark at 4 PM. But see those pictures at the top of the post? Even now, in January, surely not the time of year to visit the Northwest, there is beauty to be found – brief sunlight on the Anna’s hummingbirds and mysterious early pink blooms in a local garden path. I think it’s part of the pattern of normal human behavior to tend to hibernate during the dead of winter, but for writers, this hibernation can be put to use. We may not see its immediate rewards yet. Cleaning out our closets, reading books or browsing sections of the bookstore we don’t normally see, or taking on a regimen of vegetables we don’t normally eat, or deciding which friends we need to have more of in our lives, which are really rooting for us and which are not – these things will have lasting benefits down the road. Consider downtime as not so much of an obstacle, but a necessity that will help us – just like our garden – to produce better and lasting results. If we look at it that way, we’re less likely to be resentful of a day or two spent in bed, not wasted but rewarding.