How I wish I were posting about my reenactment of Buddy the Elf's Victory Lap 'round the Revolving Door. But lately I just cannot seem to shake these low spirits. I have been living with seasonal affective disorder from roughly September to March every year for at least the last ten years. I've read a good bit about it and met with a couple of counselors. I've learned to recognize the symptoms (e.g. persistent cravings for comfort foods that last for weeks, lack of enthusiasm for leaving the house, feeling of overwhelm in dealing with the simplest of tasks and then allowing them all to snowball so that become completely snowed in to own misery) and to deal with them head-on. In the past, sometimes that has meant a low-dose anti-depressant. In other years, I have just stuck to my light treatments. This year has been a bit more complicated since I am still nursing and therefore don't want to go on the meds, but at the same time, I cannot physically be faithful to my light treatments. My days are spent keeping a curious and active almost-toddler cordoned off. It is nearly impossible to sit in front of my sun lamp for more than five minutes before I am rushing to keep the pages of a carelessly placed novel from passing through the Baby Girl Shredder. Yesterday I was pressing my nose up against my sunlamp as if hooked up to an IV of serotonin drip. I was half of a mind to climb inside the sunlamp as if it were a tanning bed and sunbathe myself into oblivion. If I am really honest, I am not feeling much better today, but ironically, being around the baby has helped to keep me focused and to live and enjoy the preciously fleeting moments of her babydom. I could surely use some prayers in the interim of figuring out my treatment plan.