S.A.D

For some reason, I am having a really hard time adjusting to Autumn this year. Yesterday was one of those unusually cool mornings and yet, I walked to work sans coat and full-body goosebumps instead. My runs in the park are finished in near total darkness. I keep waiting for the weather channel to tell me the temperature next week is going to be in the 80s and then I'll get one last chance to sport my favorite summer dress or my flip-flops that are now so much molded to my feet they feel almost like second skin. I usually don't fight the change this much. I embrace the leaves changing colors, the cider, the apple picking and the light weight sweaters that have sat neatly folded on my closet shelf. Typically I embrace the shift to my laceless converse kicks and the black coat. But not this time. I've developed an intense case of "Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)." Look it up; it's a real condition. It's right up there with "Restless Leg Syndrome."

I'm chalking the entire thing up to change overload. Too much change and not enough time to adjust to each change before the next one happens. But things that never used to bother me seem like the most pivotal things. I don't want to wear a coat. I don't want to wear sneakers. I loathe the thought of long pants against my shins, the thought of socks on my feet all day. I feel somewhat out of control. I'm scared. And I'm running. Fast. But I'm not sure what I'm running from or where I'm going to end up when I finally stop to take a drink of water or to breathe, to think, to listen. I'm sure by the time I stop it will be winter, the park will be covered in snow and I will have given into the full-length down coat, hat, scarf and mittens. I have no choice. It's coming. Fall gives way to winter too quickly around here.