Cold Dark Heart

Posted: 7 December 2008 in joy, therapy

That’s what we call it, anyway.

You know what it is though.  It’s that hollow feeling specific to times of celebration.  The feeling that you aren’t as keyed up or as excited as everyone else is.  That the anticipation for something is…missing.  Never had it?  I’m impressed.

I suppose it shows up most around the winter holidays.  Everything is piney smelling and glistening.  People wear santa hats to restaurants, green boughs decorate stores, radios play things like Let it Snow and Silver Bells.  Even without a specific holiday to celebrate, things seem jollier.  There is more to do than there will be for the next three months, snow is still white, winter hasn’t worn out its welcome.

When you look around and everyone else is beaming with some internal light and you take an internal assessment and come up with a burnt out bulb, that’s a cold dark heart.  Love to give gifts?  Hate wrapping paper.  Love to eat cookies and drink eggnog?  Not worth the pounds.  Can’t wait to decorate a tree?  Too much trouble.  A cold dark heart can resist any attempt to rekindle excitement.

Fortunately, I think we’ve escaped the cold dark heart this year.  We haven’t tumbled full swing into concerts, cooking, gift buying, tree lightings.  We haven’t gone to any parties or decorated anything.  But still, things feel warm and anticipatory.  There are mini marshmallows for hot chocolate and there are plans to see friends and family.  I’m looking forward to quieter days at work and bitterly cold evenings with air that’s tight in my lungs.  I’m careful to proactively sneak seasonal warmth into our lives – simmering apple cider and a pine scented candle.

Cold dark heart?  No thnak you.


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