I have a love/hate relationship with Fall. On one hand I enjoy the abbreviated sunshine, the shortened days, the crispness in the air. Shadows lengthen, football starts, baseball is coming to an end On the other hand, the colder temperatures don’t allow me to comfortably sit outside. On the other hand, the abbreviated daylight and colder temperatures allow for reading outside by a campfire. As an Introvert, I like the solitude of a campfire because I can and often do spend that time by myself.
As Fall progresses it means Winter is upon us, upon me.
I borrowed these words from my journal a few years ago. I will allow them to speak for me.
“Winter is hard for me. Winter feels, and smells like depression to me. It’s heavy. It hurts. The trees, naked of their leaves look like anxiety, and panic attacks, and fear. The colors are wrong. Black and white. It feels like they’re mocking me. Taunting, teasing, laughing. It will hit me hard.
I remind myself I’m in charge. No one else. Nothing else. It was a thought. A thought about the season. That’s all. You’re ok. It’s the season. It’s been this way for years. As I approached my fortieth year, Winter became more difficult to manage.
I remind myself, “there’s no time for this.” Fuck those bare trees!