In our weekly spot of the Film Stories site where we chat about mental health, we welcome back Jane to try and find some glimmers for us. Greetings and salutations, lovely people. It’s been a while, and how nice it is to pop back again and say hello. As you know, this is a safe ... Mental Health and Wellbeing Matters: Winter Glimmer
In our weekly spot of the Film Stories site where we chat about mental health, we welcome back Jane to try and find some glimmers for us.
Greetings and salutations, lovely people. It’s been a while, and how nice it is to pop back again and say hello.
As you know, this is a safe spot every Wednesday to have a natter, express our worries, recommend the good stuff, and generally just be nice. To ourselves. To one another. Which sometimes can be surprisingly hard, given the regular cartloads of crap life can lob our way.
We’re in December, and silly shopping season, pointed elbows and expectations are falling down like glittery snow around us. It’s a lot. And for some reason, the season of goodwill to all can actually amplify antipathy towards fellow human beings. Especially when you receive an elbow in the face in the COOP cheese section.
The dark nights setting in doesn’t help. While we can romanticise a walk on a frostbitten glittery night with soft mittens and mulled wine at the end of it, the reality is bucketing rain and soggy feet. Going to work, and not seeing the sun for days on end. A pile up of tasks both home and elsewhere accumulating on our already overloaded shoulders.
Personally, I’m juggling declining health that has steadily disabled me, and three parentals in need. I share this with you not for pity, but because we all have those snaking little branches of life that snag us, rend our clothes and tear our hearts. These are a couple of mine.
But what we also have are glimmers. Sparks of life to look towards or recall, moments to step towards. Because winter doesn’t last forever, even if waiting for the publication of the final volume of Game of Thrones does.
What do I mean by glimmers? Well, it can be anything that sparks joy. My glimmers will be completely different to someone else. I’ve been in head therapy a little while now, and my excellent therapist encourages me to end each session with my glimmers, my points of light in the dark. So, here’s a list (Editor Simon hates lists but I’m in charge today!):
- New vinyl from the ridiculously over the top Creeper bellowing Steinman-esque ballads about lovelorn vampires and rivers of blood.
- A mini trip with a sea view booked for January to watch the sun rise over the North Sea.
- My gorgeous favourite person still being here after major surgery and still giving the best hugs.
- Accessible front row seats for Deep Purple next year (sometimes being disabled does have the odd perk)
- My dog. No further explanation needed.
These are the things that are lighting my way into next year as I navigate what I know is going to be a tricky December. I think of them, and my therapist’s other advice: take a deep breath in, sigh it out. Let my shoulders drop. Hug my dog (partner too). Think about those glimmers of joy that I’m going to be touching in the future.
Glimmers don’t cure anything. But they can show a little light when the path ahead is darker than we’d like.
Take care and thanks for reading. Feel free to share your own glimmers in the comments.
