So I’ve been thinking a lot lately and, ironically, the more I think the less I am able to write. Hence, no blog posts for about five months, starting this past April.
April just might be my least favorite month of the year (sorry April birthdays) because shit always seems to hit the fan in April: suicide attempts, breakups, intense headaches that require MRIs, CAT scans, and ER visits, and the like. April and I are not friends.
Usually in April I stop doing all the things I love for no reason at all really and this past April was no exception. I stopped crocheting, stopped working out (ok, i stopped working out longgg before April but I didn’t even consider working out in April), stopped reading, stopped writing, stopped cleaning, stopped everything. I cruised through both jobs on auto pilot, letting the routine take over, trying to let my mind go blank. And it was miserable.
Winter usually drains my soul in so many ways and, by the time April comes around, I expect her to bring me sunshine and joy. She never delivers and her disappointing showers usually send me reeling into an even deeper depression.
But alas April finally ended this year and, for the first time, May brought me flowers. Or, maybe it was that I actually went out and picked me some damn flowers. Either way, it was worth holding on through May’s dreaded predecessor.
You see in May I decided to go back to counseling. I dragged my sorry sad butt off the couch, set down the continuous pint of ice cream and/or beer I was constantly drowning my sorrows in, wiped the self pity off my chin, and landed in a therapist’s chair.
And that was the spark that set me on this path of self re-discovery. That one simple decision led to many more monumental decisions that led me here, knock, knock, knocking on happinesses’ door. And she let me in. Or I let her in. Either way, we’ve been hanging out for a while now and I think we are going to be great friends.