As we slowly navigate the end of January and move into February, it’s important to acknowledge that many of us are experiencing a similar mix of emotions. This season often invites reflection and remembrance, reminding us that we are not alone in our struggles. Each of us carries unique burdens, and sharing our experiences can lighten that load for ourselves and others. This month, I find myself on a deeply personal journey, wrestling with the intricate feelings that come from both loss and the hope to embrace life anew.

As the season unfolds, I feel caught in a gentle tug-of-war between despair and a strong desire to take meaningful action. This month carries the weight of precious memories, especially as we remember our beloved daughter, Winter, who tragically passed away three years ago on our wedding anniversary, January 1st. Although I have found some ways to cope, the depth of this loss still weighs heavily on my heart.

The challenges of this month are not just marked by anniversaries, but also by the realities of the season. Having never experienced seasonal depression before, I notice a stark contrast to the motivation I felt while living in Hawaii and Mexico, where the warmer climate invited a vibrant outdoor life even during the colder months.

Adding to this emotional landscape, my wife is currently away for an extended hardship posting. Such separations can be incredibly challenging, especially as she nears the final stages of her career. I miss her deeply, and her absence amplifies the sense of longing for connection during this time.

Moreover, as I tune into the news or converse with people who seem indifferent to justice and compassion, I’m often overcome with a wave of dread. It feels disheartening to witness a world where selflessness appears overshadowed by selfishness, particularly when those who prioritize their interests seem to hold the reins of power.

I also grapple with anxiety as we prepare for the next chapter of our lives. While Peggy looks excitedly toward retirement, I continue to teach at two colleges. Still, I only really enjoy the one. Yet even in that space, distractions can weigh heavily on my mind; just today, I delivered a lecture on the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems that I usually love, but it felt somewhat empty.

In terms of coping, I’ve have my escapes in Dungeons & Dragons and Running, although both have taken a backseat lately. The unpredictability of scheduling makes roleplaying challenging in December, often bleeding into January. Sometimes, groups either reconvene in February or, sadly, drift apart altogether. Fortunaly my groups is several years old and will weather the season.

Running, too, poses its own challenges in cold weather. Once I push past the initial barrier of stepping out the door, the experience often feels more rewarding than those blazing summer days, but that first step is especially daunting in winter.

These challenges create a delicate balance, fostering either a drive to take action or a longing to retreat. I want to acknowledge that reaching out for connection is bad ass, one I’m committed to taking. I plan to join the pub running crowd on Thursday night, connect with the long run group on Saturday, and participate in a run and D&D session on Sunday. I miss our Family Dinner and D&D sessions, which always brought me so much joy and uplift.

Despite my intentions and desire for connection, I’m aware that my ADHD symptoms feel more pronounced during January and February, making it difficult to focus on the activities that normally recharge me.

While I may not have a clear message to share, I want to offer a heartfelt acknowledgment of the challenges many of us face during this time. If you find yourself navigating your own difficulties, please remember that you are not alone; together, we can meet the challenges life presents with compassion and resilience.