I woke in the middle of the night recently with the idea that I might be fraying at the edges and that it was important that I think about this idea of fraying and apply this understanding in an attempt to deal with it. Don’t get me wrong, I think a little fray around the edges is alright, preferred even, but not so much as to unravel completely. I’d done that enough in the past, and I’ve decided that now it’s time to live in the sunshine.
So, as the days become short and as I too deal with the SAD it brings on, this idea of fraying seemed appropriate fodder for contemplating during nights that went on too long, with tea warm close by and a candle lit in the background, flickering light and filling the room with it’s delicate scent. I need to get cozy during these times where I have little energy and motivation outside of the usual day-to-day tasks. Thus I romanticize the dark, dressing cozy in the evenings, having warm blankets nearby, lighting candles and incense and making pots and pots of tea, drinking coffee at 7:30pm in a ritualistic play-fight with the urge to sleep. I (try to) accept that nature itself is telling me to slow down and recharge, and I remember that my patience will be rewarded when the sun once again shines long and hot and I can bask in its energizing effect anew.
Worn things fray, and when fraying occurs, it is best to repair it then and there rather than wait for things to fall beyond it. But alas, I too often ignore the signs of wear and this is where I find myself of late. Having to weave old threads, and though luckily it appears ammends can be made, there will be scars left behind. That’s what happens when you let things go for too long. You can patch, but it will be obvious in the end that you did so, which will serve as a constant, sometimes stinging reminder that you could have simply dealt with the rogue fibers at earlier signs, leaving behind little, if any evidence at all.
Not to fear, I believe in my case the fraying can be mended, but, I’m wondering, will I learn from this, and the countless other times this very thing has occurred, that the more time I wait to tackle difficult tasks, the more work I make for myself in the end? My first instinct is to say I will learn little and that this will happen, like clockwork, again next season. But, perhaps the jolt in the night that told me to address the fraying was my body’s way of saying that I needed to really look at this tendency, figure out why it happens, observe what things best ameliorate my situation, noting them and being confident knowing I have the tools to properly deal with this in the future.
I’m going to give myself a little credit and say that I have indeed learned something from this yearly malaise. That I see it coming a lot farther out than I have up until this point been willing to admit, and that preventative measures could be implemented so as to better deal with the potential deleterious effects the lack of light seems to have on me. It also points to a tendency to procrastinate that has impacts on my life in so many other ways. In the past I’ve dealt with this defect of character by imposing a ripping off of the band-aid type of discipline in order to maintain rigor. I’ve fallen short of that discipline as of late, and again should have acknowledged the signs earlier. I stopped my daily writing. Not just writing like this, or writing stories, or lyrics or what not, but the daily planning, journaling, jotting, simply stopped. For years I kept a near daily habit of journaling, scribbling out my schedule for the day, the week, the month, keeping constant tabs on my life-plan and goals. It was tedious but necessary maintenance. As a writer and over-thinker, I need outlets for my psyche, and as it has been and likely always will be reading and writing that brings me solace and calm so that I can continue to learn more about myself and what I want from this life.
And so, in simply writing this out, I have given myself a reminder etched in stone that though the fraying will never stop, I have the ability to make repairs.