Purgatory

Okay, I just realized that, in addition to four bleak, gray, ugly New York City snow pictures, I have also posted two black and white photos within the past month!

This has got to stop. (Thus the bright yellow tree. Quebec City, Canada- 2009) I find it quite odd that even in my choice of photos (and my writing too, no doubt) I've become bleak and quite depressing.

In some ways I feel that is what winter is all about. We move slower. We are stuck indoors with nothing but time to think. We gain a few pounds eating warm, hearty meals of steel-cut oats, butternut squash, parsnips and lentil based stews. We hardly get to walk around. I am so tired of going from tiny apartment (I realize my is quite nicely sized in comparison to most) to tiny and cramped subway to the 19th floor of one building where I sit under florescent lights. Just to break up the treadmill jogs and slip-sliding walks to and from the subway, I do circles in Grand Central Station on my lunch hour, like the white haired retired women in shopping malls in the Midwest.

Seasons happen for a reason. Resting is necessary. Everything comes in waves, in the rise and fall, in the pull and release, but in this season, I feel as if I'm about to unraveled. How much more of this can I (we) take?

From The Psalms:

My heart shudders within me;
terrors of death sweep over me.

Fear and trembling grip me;
horror has overwhelmed me.

I said, "If only I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and find rest.

How far away I would flee;
I would stay in the wilderness.

I would hurry to my shelter
from the raging wind and the storm. Psalm 55

BUT I keep standing on the promise:

He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me. Psalm 18

I really am doing okay, and I'm hoping this spacious place that he's going to take me to will look alot like the Outer Banks of North Carolina, or Scottsdale Arizona, or San Diego, or even Austin, Texas. These Northeast winters are harsh and I only realize it when I'm completely driven down to a stub; a hallowed out hull of the vibrant, BIG personality I usually am.

This happened Sunday night when I had a panicked induced, anxiety fed, full on attack of my sanity. For two hours I shivered, vomited, and spent plenty of time "on the can." Worry at it's fullest. Irrational, inconsolable fear which is not something that happens to me all that often. And this was by far the worst feeling I've felt in a long time. I think winter in a place like this can do that to you, and it's not just the grayness, and it's not just the five foot snow drifts, and it's not just the lack of Vitamin D or even the days on end of below freezing temperatures.

But I feel stuck here, on this island, within these four miles. I am caught underground between home and work. I'm forever waiting on Spring. I'm wondering where we'll live when our lease is up. I'm seeking direction for jobs and families and homes and futures. And it's not Chris and it's not me. We are so happy together. We are blessed beyond measure and know it and are so grateful, but this season just sucks! It's literary sucking the life out of us.