I have been dressing for winter. Turtlenecks. Slacks. Thick coats. I feel the cold lately. True, some strange cold spell has hit the East Bay but I really feel it this time. Psychosomatic perhaps, like my tummy troubles. Once again, I’ve lost my appetite, am having trouble keeping food down. So now what?

Progress isn’t always an uphill climb. It would be wonderful if I could plow through my depression the way I used to walk up hills when I was raising money to fight breast cancer. The Little Engine was my nickname. I would just chug on up those Peninsula and City hills, never pausing in the shade of skinny trees or stopping to stretch. I would not stop until I reached the summit. Then I could relax.

I had hoped I could do the same with my emotional journey. I pushed myself to complete several long-postponed exercises out of my cognitive behavioral therapy workbook this past weekend. This meant reexamining my negative thoughts and sitting with the inner critic as my therapist suggested. It’s hard. I have reveled in my recent feelings of joy, hope, and wonder. Now I’m waking up in the middle of the night to cry and question myself.

Today, I did something out of character for me. I broke up my workday by calling Lisa and confiding in her about my bad night. I wonder if she knew I was crying. I wonder if any of my staff noticed.

I look forward to getting through this temporary setback.