Notes from November, How to Cheer Yourself Up and Stave Off SAD, and Surviving Being an Idiosyncratic Woman Writer

Pink Rhododendron Confusion in November

Notes from November – Confused Flowers, Impeachments, etc.

Hey everyone! How’s your November going? Me, I’ve been in the grip of an evil cough/sore throat/fever thing and a pretty bad sprained ankle, which has left me chilling at home with soup and tea when I’d rather be out and about, going to readings, visiting with friends, or, you know, anything besides being stuck at home with my foot up.

On the plus side, my pink rhododendron thinks it’s spring, despite several frosts proving the contrary. The season seems confused. We’ve had less rain this November than we did in September – but the month will still throw a surprise lightning or hail storm at you, and it’s easy to feel gloomy when it gets dark at 4 PM. Damn time change.

Mt Rainier sunset

This picture of the sun setting over Mt. Rainier in my neighborhood was taken right before 4 PM. I’ve been watching a little bit of the impeachment hearings every day – not hours of them, but little slivers. I realized this is the third impeachment of my lifetime – Nixon resigned about a year after I was born, the Clinton impeachment happened in my early twenties when I was too busy with work and school to notice it, so this is the first time I’ve really had the opportunity to pay attention to how the American system works. However, the whole process seems pretty depressing. Besides that I’m reading about Russian gulags in the book I’m reading on Cold War women spies  – in the really fun (otherwise) tale of the birth of the book/movie Dr. Zhivago,  The Secrets We Kept – it occurred to me that I am not doing enough to protect myself from the evils of seasonal depression (or writer depression, or MS-related depression.) All the magazines I’m reading right now are all about celebrating “Hygge” – the Danish idea of keeping yourself sane during the long winters by cultivating an atmosphere of coziness – and talk about how to cheer yourself up this time of year. There is a reason there are so many traditional holidays in almost all cultures at this time of year – drinking and eating and spending time and lights with loved ones can help keep you from feeling the blues.

Glenn and I clowning around at Molbaks

How to Cheer Yourself Up – A Guide to Avoiding SAD in Seattle

Just kidding, I don’t really have all the answers for this. I know it involves getting outside and getting fresh air whenever possible – a little harder when it’s cold and rainy and one is fighting off an evil germ and sprained ankle. I know that trying to eat nutritious seasonal food is part of it – poaching pearrs, making butternut squash soup, drinking hot chocolate and cider, etc. I’m going to a therapist monthly these days – it’s supposed to help the anxiety I’ve developed since the whole cancer/liver tumor/MS nightmare thing, and also keep me from constantly bombarding the people in my social circle with medical stories, and in general it’s recommended for people who feel depressed and anxious.

Glenn and I pose at Molbaks in their winter owl wonderland

I am including these pictures of another of my methods for cheering myself up – a trip to a brightly decorated for the holidays (these two tableaux – snowy arctic owl and patisserie – may not be traditional for the Christmas holidays, but they are really fun ideas) neighborhood gardening store called Molbaks and enjoying their displays. (I always come home with a new plant and a present for someone. This time it was poinsettias and ornaments for my mom.)  It’s a wonderful source of inspiration during the gardening time of year – since I’m not really a Seattle native, I’m still learning what plants and trees grow well around here.

Another is watching Christmas episodes of my favorite comedies, like Community and 30 Rock, and enjoying holiday-themed movies.  And reading books of poetry that make you feel happy – even if the poetry itself is kind of depressing – is a really good coping mechanism, in my opinion. Hygge is all about blankets and candles and eating (candy) and enjoying things like board games. Does it work? I don’t know. But it probably can’t hurt. Also cats. Snuggling floofy animals certainly can’t hurt.

On Being an Idiosyncratic Woman Writer

I posted a post on Facebook about coming to the realization, as I was doing poetry submissions of my poems and books, that perhaps my poetry is not going to be for everyone. Here’s what I wrote:

“Sometimes when I’m doing poetry submissions I get insight into why not everyone wants to publish my poetry: it’s funny, but in a dark way; the worldview is pretty depressing; it’s environmental, but not in a warm-and-fuzzy way, more in a mother-nature-is-a-scary-avenging angel way. It’s feminist, but also not in an easy, “dancing in a circle celebrating menses” way. I mean, I write love poems, but not a ton. Anyway, I recognize I’m not an easy, feel-good poet. I’m not a Netflix holiday romantic comedy. I get it. I’m the indie movie your film friend recommended and then you’re like “Why did she make me see that?” But still, I’ll probably try knocking at your door, poetry editors…”

When Sylvia Plath complained in her letters and journals about not getting publishing enough or not getting recognition, she doesn’t seem to realize her writing might be off-putting to the conservative patriarchal poetry world that was on the rise in her lifetime – her husband was being actively encouraged by T.S. Eliot for goodness’ sake, while she could barely get a mentor. Virginia Woolf, before Sylvia, suffered because she lacked getting enough critical attention for her ground-breaking fiction – but her style is just now being recognized as genius and ground-breaking. I just read in a British magazine that Daphne du Maurier – one of my favorite gothic fiction writers from my childhood – is regaining a reputation as a fine literary writer after years as being denigrated as a writer of trashy horror/romances and PhD students are newly studying her archives. I read an article about Margaret Atwood where she talked about self-publishing her first book of poetry and  hand-selling it to bookstores; she didn’t write The Handmaid’s Tale, which shot her to fame, until she was in her forties – my age, in fact. I mean, my writer heroines – such as they are, a motley crew – have never really had an easy time of it, especially early, even if they had more success than I’ve had in my lifetime yet. So I’ve got to remember that my writer heroines struggled and suffered and continued to write and send out their work even in an unfriendly hour, at an unfriendly time.  I will continue to write what I write and send it out into the world, hoping it will find its audience.