For the past few days, I have felt out of sorts a bit. It doesn’t feel like a resurgence of the depression and the anxiety, but something is amiss. What is it? PMS? Stress? Allergies? I couldn’t put my finger or anything else on it, but as I was lost in thought and music during my afternoon commute, I realized what “it” is. It is May 15.
While I am mathematically challenged and horrible with numbers in general, I have an uncanny knack for remembering dates of significant and insignificant events. Apparently, even though this particular date snuck up on me, it was not lost on my subconscious mind, as it stirred up some thoughts and feelings that linger in the recesses of my mind. Three years ago on this very date, my world imploded, and life as I knew it ceased to exist.
Once I acknowledged May 15 as an unlikely anniversary, I did not dwell on the way things were on that day when I succumbed to the anxiety and depression, instead I chose to reflect on how very far I have come since then. Nothing is as it was on that day three years ago or as it was before that day, and even three years later, there are moments when I wonder what happened and how I got to where I am at this moment. The residual feelings that this three year anniversary has stirred up are part of the grieving process of a life that no longer exists and the acceptance of the relationships that have been lost, the transition from being married to divorced, the recovery from the anxiety and depression, and too many other changes to begin to list here. I cannot wrap my brain around how much has transpired in these past three years, and honestly, I cannot believe that I survived it. I definitely had my doubts along the way, but I am glad that I proved myself wrong.
The darkness that rendered me paralyzed and obscured my path has been replaced by a light that propels me forward in a positive direction, and even when I take a misstep, as it is all about progress, not perfection, the light beckons me back to where I need and want to be. It has only been recently that I feel like I have moved from survival mode to thriving mode, and I am getting accustomed to having more good days than bad days. I remain perfectly flawed, and I am comfortable with that. As I glance over my shoulder at what has been left behind, the tears return to cleanse my heart and baby soul, and I look forward to life after the storm.
That’s another story . . .
Categories: That's Another Story