Fall is here. I know it with every fiber of my being. I know it NOT because of the pumpkin spice latte M&Ms headed to my grocery store. I know it NOT because of the calendar–it still says summertime. The cooler weather hints at fall, but the proof is in my brain.
My mind is racing most of the time. I am having a hard time controlling my thoughts and my moods. I want to run away from my life, from me.
It’s happening again.
It’s fall.
Every year at this time, since the very first fall after Patrice was born, I descend into the dark pit of depression. It’s a little early this year, but it definitely is the fall round of mental torture.
I used to love fall. I love the color of the leaves, the opportunity to bake and cook more. I love the decorations. I love the cooler temperatures.
But my mind makes it hard to enjoy all of those things. It is too busy thinking over the years that have passed. It is too busy telling me I am a horrible mother and I need to run away. It is too busy torturing me.
This year, I recognized what was happening a little sooner so have kicked up my exercise a notch, reaching out to others, reading my Bible, giving myself space.
I am doing what I can to reclaim my season, to reclaim my fall.
