Winter Blues
Or, January is weird and that's okay.
The impulse to Google, “What was happening astrologically from December 11th to December 16th??” and other just girly things.
A singular name I did not want to see across my phone is one thing. Five is an entirely different thing. And happening simultaneously within less than a week? All right, Universe. Check and mate.
One of my favorite bits is to joke about how we’re all controlled by the moon to some extent but it’s not a total joke. Yes, on one hand, take everything with a grain of salt including the comets and where Saturn happens to be on an otherwise innocuous Friday. But on the other, if the moon controls the tides and we’re over 60% water, why would we be beyond the gravitational pull of something that can literally move an ocean?
So sure, sometimes instead of considering something can be just chalked up to a slip of the finger or one too many before scrolling on Instagram well past midnight or an otherwise coincidental misnomer, I choose to blame whatever’s going on in the sky. It’s not a typo, it’s obviously Venus. It’s not unhealed abandonment issues, clearly it’s the Full Moon in Gemini. It’s not me or you or anything else in between here on solid ground, it’s astrology.
And it helps. Even just a little bit. And that’s okay.
(For what’s worth thought from December 11th to December 16th there was the last quarter moon, Mercury entered Sagittarius, Mars entered Capricorn, and Neptune stationed direct for the first time since July so. There’s that.)Not even a Christmas card this year.
Oh you know, just some typical “i have a complicado relationship with my parents” type shit. Scroll to number 3 if that bugs ya!
If we were to play the “they said // she said” game it would be a relentless back and forth. A ping-pong match with no ending. They’d say I never call them back, I’d say that’s because I realized I was the only one trying for 5+ years. They’d say they never hear from me, I’d say they’ve ignored huge moments and aspects of my life by choice. They’d say I’m distant, I’d say that’s by design. They’d say I’m difficult, I’d say they can barely define that word. They’d say I don’t put in the effort, I’d ask them about the gift cards I can see are still untouched and the hand painted ferry card I mailed on December 19th and then was met with an empty mailbox in return.
This is feeling personal, and that’s because it is.
There’s a special kind of awkward on not being close with your family, especially around things like holidays, life changes, birthdays—the list goes on. People get silent if it gets brought up, the uncomfortable shifting around happens, then there’s likely some unsolicited advice or “wisdom” they’ll try to bequeath you with. It’s all understandable, and kind, in some ways. But none of it is particularly helpful and none of it can compare to the internal awkwardness that is happening at the same time.
And frankly? Sometimes I would argue that the awkwardness is worse than if there was something volatile or violent or catastrophic at play. Silence over the holidays isn’t abuse, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. Distance between all parties isn’t a slap in the face, but it feels pointed when it’s only used to blame one. An inciting, awful incident has just cause, little things over the course of 15+ years are feel more antiquated and hard to explain.
I don’t know if there is a solution to this, I don’t know if there ever will be.
But I still mailed the card hand painted by an artist on Orcas Island on December 19th. And I mailed another one soon after because my mother is a Capricorn with a birthday right after Christmas and I didn’t forget even if I don’t hear or see anything in return.
And it is what it is. And that’s all it might be. And that’s okay.I am jealous of people with bad memories.
I remember everything and I have a love/hate relationship with it.
For the rest of my life I will remember that she doesn’t tie her shoes and she says “sweet dreams” backwards before she goes to bed. For the rest of my life I will not associate January 6th with the insurrection first. For the rest of my life I will have a strange relationship to a pothos plant. For the rest of my life I will play different iterations of Zelda the way she taught me back when I started Breath of the Wild. For the rest of my life I will do a double take at a certain model of car, a certain stop at Pike Place, certain restaurants, certain blocks in Cap Hill, a certain brand of wine. Because they’re all tied up in memories and for whatever reason, mine is iron clad.
Yes; there is something inherently romantic about this. It’s an unwavering, “I know you and I remember this” thing. To be loved is to be seen, to be known, or whatever.
But on the other, don’t we all want to Eternal Sunshine ourselves sometimes? To hit the reset button and get an emotional do-over? Wouldn’t it be easier to start fresh?
Once, someone told me she completely forgot about an ex and had to be reminded of who he was when they physically ran into each other. They were at a sports bar where he was a regular; she’d been there with him multiple times. The Mariners were playing and he’d gotten her the hat she was wearing. She’d forgotten all of it. I couldn’t relate to anything less. I couldn’t even being to fathom how that would be possible.
The double Virgo in me (heeyyyyy astro callback) wants to be so above it all. So beyond the emotions of what it means to remember. But my Cancer moon is controlled by all of that water and demands that it be felt. So I remember the sports bars and the birthdays and the idiosyncrasies and the favorite colors and the way they put a space between the end of their sentence and an exclamation point when texting. I remember the seaside towns and the dressing (not stuffing) recipe and the way they took their coffee at a diner (cream and sugar, yes please).
And so I’ll have a weird relationship with a six-foot plant and July Cancers for the rest of my life. But I’ll also never make bacon on the stove again because someone taught me how to bake it and I’ll always smile a little on the inside when someone chooses to back into a parking spot rather than pull through. And so even when it’s hard to remember, it’s okay.January feels like nothing and everything all at once and it’s kinda overwhelming.
Partially due to the months of January and March in the PNW being historically grey and wet and icky and a little dull. Our Mexico tans are fading and we all start looking a little Edward Cullen-y. The holiday magic or whatever is boxed away and the January/Capricorn Season grind begins and it feels a bit like Severance mixed with under-seasoned food, if you ask me.
January feels really weird right now. I’m drinking coffee at home again in an effort to spark. List making to try not to succumb to the nothingness of the first month of the year. Chewing on a multi-vitamin during the day and a sleeping one at night because New Year, Better Me, right? Trying to focus and feel accomplished where I can and remind myself that nothing lasts forever, even the everything and nothing all at once of the start to another rotation around the sun.
I don’t have a ton to say about the pressure of New Year that likely hasn’t already been said. There’s nothing profound here. Just that it feels weird.
Because it kind of is. And that’s okay.So when I can, I’m looking at the little things.
Like books, and finishing the first one of 2026. And crisp sparkling waters and bowls of simple pasta with breadcrumbs made by hand. And a monstera in the office that refuses to die and put out a new leaf when I wasn’t watching even though I really struggle with that damn plant. And my dog running on the beach because god isn’t that great? And the fact that I finally went to a doctor and got a solution to an almost year-long problem that is so far so good so working. And staycations. And being pretty solid at Wordle for the last few weeks. And clear skin. And only waking up like, once a night. And less is more when I can, more is more when it’s right.
And accepting this year will ultimately be what it will be. Weird at times, wonderful at others, what I make of it regardless. And that’s more than okay.