Butterfly Summer 2010

If I were to sum up the summer of 2010 with one word it would be this: butterflies. This was the summer of butterflies. We had hundreds of them in my little flowering oasis. Buckeyes, black swallowtails, monarchs, silver spotted skippers, sulphurs, cabbage butterflies, tiger swallowtails and more swirled in kaleidescopic frenzy about the butterfly bush and nepeta, especially. It was dazzling. I hadn't seen a buckeye since I was a child! Pictured above is just one sedum in my garden--and all of the flowers in my garden were just as loaded with butterflies. It was astonishing.

I would put a chair in the center of the garden and sit there, with scads of butterflies swirling about me and it felt like heaven must feel. Fragrant, warm, surrounded by color and beauty. Amazing.

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I would be remiss if I did not at least attempt to explain my absence from this blog:

The long, dreary months of last winter gave way to a wonderful spring, and I was overjoyed. Plants that normally fail to bloom in my garden due to late freezes rewarded my impatient vigil with glorious bowers of color and fragrance. June provided warm days and plenty of rain. But the warmth grew quickly uncomfortable. There were few balmy days, but plenty of blistering ones. Thankfully, the weekly rainfall continued, but the 90+ degree heat and humidity drove me indoors, and there I languished. Without the sunshine to restore my soul, it was as though the seasonal winter blues never really left.

If I had one goal for this blog, it was to never let it get bogged down with negativity. So I quit writing. Several of my friends asked me where I'd gone and I just had nothing to say. A blue cloud had settled on me like a shroud.

Now, as I face the prospect of another winter, I am peering out of my turtle shell. I can't remain completely silent for much longer, but what direction my writing will take is a mystery even to me.

Open to Suggestions...

I've been grouchier than usual lately. All kinds of excuses for it come to mind. Seasonal Affective Disorder is definitely topping the list, but there are more. Holiday stress, menopause, an inherited tendency to depression, and poor coping skills are all factors. Yes, I admit to the latter. I'm not so good at coping with daily stresses. Snapping at people and overeating are my modus operandi. If a half dozen Christmas cookies taken orally twice a day could cure depression, I'd be healed!
For years I battled depression medically, using Prozac, Zoloft and the like. Then we had an insurance changeup, and I realized I might not have drug coverage in the future. I asked the pharmacist how much my prescription would cost me without insurance copay and was horrified at the response--over $400 a month. I tried quitting cold turkey at that time. Dear Readers, do NOT do this!
I suffered extreme dizziness, nausea, and whacked out thoughts. I thought I was dying. It took me a while before I realized I was experiencing withdrawal! How silly of me! I thought withdrawal only happened to junkies. Well, guess what?
I went back on the meds and started anew to wean myself gradually. It took weeks of tapering the dose and adjusting to each new, lower level before I was completely free. There were occasional dizzy spells even doing it that way. These are some powerful chemicals at work in the brain.
I found that symptoms of menopause are masked by using antidepressants. I never had a hot flash, mood swing or sleepless night. I do now. I also realize now that I did nothing in the way of learning new coping skills while I was medicated. So basically, it prevented me from growing and maturing.
This is the first winter and Christmas season in years that I have been med-free. I know I may require some medical assistance to regulate my brain chemistry in the future, but for now I'm not experiencing the crippling depression that sent me to the doctor in the first place. I'm functional and up to living. I'm able to work, and I'm knitting and writing to keep myself going. But this morning I snapped at my husband for no reason, and even to my own ears I sounded like a petulant, spoiled child. I'm not looking for perfection here, but at least some semblance of self control. I'm open to any and all suggestions for cultivating patience and coping with stress, but I am thinking that Nike might have the real answer to this (and so many other things in life, too): Just do it.