It's my absolute favorite time of year. Halloween is around the corner and I love the promise of cooler days, snuggling under warm blankets and having an excuse to bake. Unfortunately, it's the time of year I seem to be most prone to depression and anxiety.
I've long tried to figure out why but have yet to discover why my favorite season seems to summon depression like fleas on a cat.
That's the I-don't-know-why piece of my regularly scheduled melancholia. The I-do-know-why piece is that the season holds a rather unpleasant anniversary for me. It's been almost two years since That Day. With as many tears I've shed, hours spent in my therapist's office, and uncountable conversations, you'd think I could just move forward along my merry way.
Sadly, grief doesn't work that way. I have forgiven (to the best of my ability which is not completely) but I haven't forgotten. I still get angry. I still feel betrayed. I still ask myself if reconciliation was the right option. Unflatteringly, I still entertain thoughts of revenge. I still suffer from the insecurities of wondering if I am truly "good enough."
I remind myself that everyone makes mistakes and try to ignore the voice in my head that counters with "But, how does one make THAT mistake?" I remember the bond that brought us together before and the bond we've fought so hard for since. I try to push the images out of my head that have haunted me for two years.
The others involved are still in my life but the bonds have faded which somehow makes "the incident" seem all the more pointless.
I find it much easier to feel hope and optimism when I'm not so close to That Day.
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