Blooming again

I find myself starting to open up to life again. The joy that comes with longer days, sunlight, bare-feet (at least in the house), and growing seedlings. This pattern of seasonal depression is exhausting. I re-read my post from last spring, and I wonder - was this winter really that much worse than all the others? And maybe not, but it was harrowing. And here, on the other side of it, I am still overwhelmed, and trying not to be ashamed, of where my depression took me these past 7 months.

After finishing my master's degree in sociology and my thesis on finding meaning in restorative justice work, I found myself inexplicably lost. I knew that it was not time to pursue a PhD (if there will be a time), but I did not know who or how to be in this post grad school space. My life lost meaning, lost vision, lost hope. I found anxiety - debilitating panic attacks. Feelings of worthlessness, of being a fraud, of failing to live into who I wanted to be in the world. My inner critic beat me up, again and again. I found myself unwilling to try to live out my values, in fear that I would fail. My depression was all consuming at times. I watched a lot of TV. And hibernated. 

And for the first time since my undergrad, I sought out professional help. I was lost, without a ruder, without a clue, and I needed strategies and sounding boards to get be back on track. It wasn't all awful, there were amazing moments and days even, but it was a harrowing season of life. [And the nerve damage that resulted from my wisdom teeth remove (which I had surgery to repair only 3 weeks ago) certainly didn't help. ] This week I had my last session with my therapist  - for now. And it was pretty encouraging to look back on how I have grown, on the strategies and self-check in habits I have built, and on the self-confidence that I feel returning - more and more every day. 

Yesterday I stumbled on these lines from a poem entitled "The year of my undoing" by Holy Grantham.

This is the year of my undoing.
According to Merriam-Webster, I am experiencing
“an emotionally significant event.”
This is not news to me.
As per the definition, something decisive is supposed to happen.

It will be my liberation.
Perhaps tears and mirth will carve wrinkles on my face.
But my body will continue to bend towards joy.
Freedom means I am never too much or
too loud or too glorious.
It means that my undoing will be a plot device.
And the story blooms.
Trust me.

While this season has not seemed like a liberation, I am trying to recognize that it is playing a part in shifting me. That learning to life with and through and in-spite of my depression is a journey that will bloom. That is blooming. There is grace and beauty too in this exhausting seasonal pattern. And there is freedom in learning to hold myself with compassion, to connect with the humanity of pain and anxiety and sadness, and to bend, or at least, hope towards joy. And then, at this time of year, there is the trust fulfilled in the coming of spring. 

Comments

  1. Paula LMay 9, 2019 at 10:23 PM

    Oh Bekah, this is so real. You are a gifted writer - one whom your readers feel and identify with. Thanks for your honesty and transparency. Your words resonate in our spirits and help us all cling to hope. DON'T EVER STOP WRITING!

    ReplyDelete
  2. MommaGraceMay 12, 2019 at 6:48 PM

    Dear Bekah, thank you for sharing. It takes strength to ask for help. It takes strength to work toward getting better. It takes a LOT of strength to cope in the mean time. YOU, love, are very strong. Most of all, it takes strength to share.

    May your seasons be warm, sunny, vibrant, beautiful. <3 Grace

    ReplyDelete

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