It is distinctly wintery at the moment. It’s now the official run-up to Christmas (not just the commercial flannel that starts as soon as the last festival finishes) and the nights are long.
I have the urge to curl up into a ball in bed and sleep until springtime comes. This is awkward, because it means I get tired at unusual times of the day and sleep for unpredictable lengths of time when I decide to listen to that urge. It also means I have less energy than usual to spare on stressful things like other people, or some of the topics that have been coming up in the past week or so – things like fear (and its cousin, abject terror), vulnerability, self-value, not having had sex in over three years, and so on. I was going to write a big old blog post about some, more, or fewer, of those, but really have not found the strength to push through the “bgdah!” of it yet.
So instead of writing a post on Monday and a post on Friday, I’m splitting the difference with a rambling excuse about hibernation instincts on a Wednesday instead.
Last week or the week before, or sometime recently, the New Scientist had a special on sleep. Some of the snippets about the changes that happen when people start to become sleepy – or the environmental changes that can trigger sleepiness – were fascinating. I don’t actually remember most of them, although there was something about how internal body temperature can drop by as much as 0.5˚C. I thought about how often feeling cold seems to match up with feeling sleepy, especially this time of year. (That’s the excuse for the post title, obviously).
I am feeling very glad that there are no big plans for family this year, and most of the plans that there are, are ones from which I have been excused. Quite apart from wanting to hibernate, I find big gatherings stressful. While I love the people dearly, they are much easier to love a few at a time rather than in bulk. I managed it last year, but right now I seem to be in a less strong place from which to try the same thing again.