When Your Mood = April's Weather
Dear beautiful pals,
It’s April, and in the Pacific Northwest, this means we get treated to Everything-In-One-Day weather. During an hour swim (outside) on Monday from 9 - 10 am we had sun, blue skies, eagles circling, and plump dark clouds, drizzle, downpour, wind, a few crows. An hour later it was hailing like the dickens—and also sun-shining.
I love April’s moody weather. Beautiful, brutal, gentle, manic, happy, sad, a tease, a delight.
April shows us the all-of-it-ness of life.
I get April.
And April helps me see moods—mine like to undulate!—for what they are: passing weather systems. Hopefully not too destructive. Maybe you can relate a bit, too? (If so I have a special April offering at end of this.)
The same evening of my everything-weather swim, my mood was trilling like a happy little songbird. I made my favorite spicy white bean soup, topped by rainbow chard (the beauty of the stems seduce me, and chard is easy to grow FYI). Steve and I sat at our bistro table and shared our days, while staring out the window at the cherry tree blossoms and star magnolias. GORGEOUS! We remarked at the sky, which moments ago had been pelting a hard rain over the neighborhood, and was now, miraculously, a swath of blue. As the world darkened, we cozied in to an episode of “Killing Eve,” and handfuls of candy. If we were cats you’d hear us purring.
Then, just … like … that … things changed as we were cleaning up and closing down the house for the night.
First, I bumped my elbow, right at my funny bone. 😩 Then, as I milked that with a few choice swear words, I noticed Steve had put my water glass in the dishwasher which I needed to swallow a couple magnesium pills. Harumph. At about the same time I reached into the cupboard for a fresh glass, I made a passing comment on a Major Global Topic A Reasonable Person Doesn’t Bring Up Right Before Bedtime; when my husband didn’t tell me how brilliant I was and agree 2000 percent, I grumped out. What are we even doing together? While muttering to myself, I dropped the hand-blown glass made by my nephew, Campbell and bits of the beautiful blue shattered all over the kitchen floor.
Well, 🤬
I went from blue skies and chirping birds to black clouds, hard slanted rain, thunder, lightning. All in about one minute. Sulky, pissy, peevy, blame-y: that was my weather system. Steve apologized about the glass and he did it in the most mature fashion: he was sorry for me having lost a glass I loved, not sorry because it was essentially his fault. (Oh I so wanted it to be the case! And why it that?)
And here’s the thing: I was aware of myself being irritated at him, even though he hadn’t done anything, other than clean the kitchen, say a few words, and then very kindly fetch the vacuum and clear up the glass. What a sport.
Isn’t it strange to witness yourself go from chirp to grrrr in 30 seconds?
Isn’t it interesting when you’re willing to stop blaming other people for this thing we call a mood—even if you struggle to do so and say bad words in the private space of your mind?
Isn’t it bizarre how we can be two places at once? 1) Aware that our experience is being created by our own little engines of thought and conditioning, but 2) still feeling all the crappiness and wondering if this here shit mood will move in for good?
By the time we got into bed we were nuzzling and all was good. Well, not really. We did nuzzle and wish each other good night, and then I went from mad to sad. Really sad, like a bit of crying (but privately) because, honestly, I just wanted a good honest sad-cry. I was thinking about my dad and how I missed him. I though about my parents, and how I missed them together. I felt sad for my mom, home alone without my dad, and sad for my dad at the adult family care home, where for three years he’s sat in a chair without a memory of his life or his sight. I really worked it. I chewed that sadness, let the tears go and didn’t say a thing.
There was nothing to say. And that’s what’s changed. I don’t have to talk about my moods the way I used to, as if the words are little fingers that can pull apart the mood knots. Nope. I eventually fell asleep, missing my daddy, my mommy, stretching my leg out for my husband, my beautiful, kind, tender husband who stands by me when I get cranky. The next day, I was fine. I did spend most of the afternoon looking at artwork online. I had thoughts about wasting time, but second-guessing aside, the art bathing really lifted my mood.
So, if you experience the occasional (or regular) April mood, this is just to say I see you.
April sees you.
Through April I’m offering drop-in coaching sessions on Thursdays. One hour for $200. In May drop-ins are on Tuesdays. Maybe you’ve got the case of the Aprils? Or maybe like Spring you’re blooming with an idea but can’t get it off the ground? A Spring cleaning? Some fresh ideas? One fruitful question to take forth with you? (Mine currently is “What would Aliveness do?” sometimes I get mad at Aliveness.)
Email me at tatyana@everydaycreative to inquire/schedule.
(My typical coaching packages start at three months).