I've been thinking about this post for a long time, and I'm really scared to post it. But I think I need to, and maybe it will help someone else going through a similar thing feel less alone.
Afraid of fall
For the last 8 years, I've loved this time of year. Brian and I started dating on Sept. 7, 1998, and since then the crispness of fall air and the taste of apples has brought me back to that magical place of falling in love. You know, that place where you can't imagine what your life was like before this person came into it, and where you walk down the street smiling for no good reason. Plus, as true New Englanders, his family is obsessed with anything fall-related, so every September is filled with apple picking and apple baking and apple cider-drinking. Another list of reasons to love this season.
But last year, around this time, I started to feel really anxious. Not anxious about anything in particular, just anxious. Anxiety runs in my family, and I've experienced it before, but this one was different. For the first time ever, it spiraled into depression--a state where I cried just about every day and couldn't think of much I'd rather do than sleep, or eat. I managed to get myself to work and fake my way through interactions with other people. And there were good days where I felt fine. I found that yoga helped a lot, as did journaling, and going out and talking to people about anything other than myself.
But sadly, this lasted for quite some time--finally abating at the end of June during my MFA residency. I think having something so meaningful to focus on, and interacting with a group of caring, smart people, did it.
Now that I feel that familiar chill in the air, and notice the daylight fading earlier and earlier, I can't help but be afraid that this monster will appear again. I'm going to blog like crazy these next few weeks, since I've found doing so really uplifting. I'm also going to do yoga a lot and try to plan some fun things for the winter months to give me something to look forward to. I'll plant bulbs that will bloom in early spring, plan a weekend yoga retreat in the Berkshires, and take on some challenging knitting projects. And of course, there's always my writing. When I get scared or frustrated about my writing progress, I try to focus on how much it's already brought to me--how it pulled me up from a place I hope to never return to. Even if I never publish another thing, I'm so grateful I discovered the joy of stringing words together.