The Long Dark Revisited

At the start of this year, I wrote about the Long Dark and what it made me feel like. Quoting yourself is kind of gauche, but the way I said it then still feels apt:

Still, I feel like a gas flame that’s been turned way down. I’m here, but I’m running basic life support functions only.

Physically, I’m the same again. My energy levels are low, and my body would much prefer it if I slept 9 to 10 hours each night. Mentally, I’m in a different place though.

As the days started to shorten this year, and the clock went back to winter time, I started my preparations for the Long Dark. I took my little lamp out and added it to my morning routine. It’s not a cure, but it does help a lot.

I found myself feeling at peace.

This is the time of year where I have less energy, so I will do less. My body never really got the message that this whole Industrial Revolution thing happened, so it’s basically telling me: “Hey, the harvest is done, time to sit around the fire, eat what you’ve grown and tell stories. Time to rest and recover, so that you’ll be ready to plant next year’s crop when spring comes.”

Of course, that’s not the reality I live in. Work just goes on through the year, and I’m expected to just perform as I always do. Capitalism halts for no one.

This is where the mental change comes in though. I realised this year, just how much of my winter blues was actually me being anxious and frustrated about having less energy, about not being able to live up to the standards I’d put for myself. Ironically, that lead to me burning a ton of energy on mental self-flagellation, meaning I had even less energy left to spend on things that needed to be done.

This year, I’m trying a different mantra. Basically, I’ve been telling myself: “Just do your job and make sure your house stays liveable. Anything on top of that is a bonus.”

This is the point where I laugh at myself a little. I’m basically giving myself permission to rest and treating it as if it’s some life-changing insight, but in a way it is. I still identify as a recovering workaholic, and the idea that I don’t actually need to work, do housekeeping and make progress on my side project and write every day feels like a profound change to me.

Maybe there really is something to this whole “getting older and wiser” thing. So, until the light comes back: if you need me, you’ll find me in my chair, under a blanket, reading a book.