Sunday, 22 July 2007

Sumer Is Icumen In

As the years roll by summer is getting easier.
So far we haven't had the heatwave that knocked me about last year, but I've had my seasonal blip, brought on by having become disabled one summer not so long ago.
I found the first 'anniversary' unbearable. There's a date, a time, a place to remember. I hadn't remotely come to terms with it all and there was a great sense of loss of freedom.
I bitterly mourned the fact I couldn't go on holiday, and of course because I was so depressed memories of family holidays (both happy and not so happy) plagued me.
I knew that parties and barbeques were happening but the noise levels alone meant I couldn't (and still can't) be there with my friends.
I had what I called 'freedom dreams' about enjoying summer before I became ill.
Ready to give me a slap? No need. Like I said, it is getting easier. With some revised attitudes:

  • Do not presume that everyone else in the whole world is having a fantastic time. This will only make you feel worse.

  • If you can't embrace summer, at least invite it in occasionally.

  • This summer I have just completed an art course, which has proved to be the best treatment so far provided by the NHS. I have various paints and pastels around the house.
    I am also massively into photography, for those who hadn't noticed :-)
    My relationship didn't survive, but having survived a deep depression my love for my son fires my will not just to live but to create and thrive.
    This year I am hoping to stay in a cottage close to home for a few days with my mum and son. I am hoping we can make it through the floods, nevermind heatwaves.
    I will not allow those ghosts of summers past to haunt me. Therapy helps me work through what I can't help but relive at times. Art, photography and writing provide the creative outlets that I see as essential to anyone who needs to heal. And music. But only in small doses.
    I will nurture friendships new and old and thank God that I am alive.
    I am alive. And when I say alive, I mean my inner core is alive. There's a long way to go yet, but getting into the rhythm of living again is providing the forward momentum that was absent for so long.
    Sumer is icumen in, perhaps.


    Wheelchair Dancer said...

    If you can't embrace summer, at least invite it in occasionally.

    I love that sentence. Thank you for a beautiful post.


    The Goldfish said...

    I think we were thinking similar thoughts last night, at least the happy to be alive bit.

    I've found it useful to mark the anniversary. For the first few years I tried to ignore it and failed spectacularly. After that, I tried to do something to mark it - not to celebrate it but perhaps more my survival, my having done all right despite the particular set of challenges it brought me that year.

    And by coincidence, the third and most dreaded anniversary was the day AJ told me he was in love with me. The forth was the day I got my English and Maths GCSE results (aged 19), and we had a picnic at Whitby Abbey to celebrate.

    Uh... I'm sure other things have happened and of course last year, on the tenth anniversary, my sister went into labour with Alexander. He was born the next morning.

    Cusp said...

    It's great that you can look at the positives and it's such a turning point when you can gain perspective and realise that the rest of the world isn't necessarily having such a great time either.

    To be honest, though I love the sunshine I hate the heat so I'm quite grateful that it's not so hot too. Last year, at this time I was slaughtered by the heat.

    Creativity really can heal and nuture the soul. It helps you to concentrate on the minutae and can give you a sense of proportion. ( Do you know about the Everyday Matters group ?)

    Love this image of grasses.

    Cake or candle ? (Do you know that game ?) ;-)

    The Goldfish said...

    By the way, you've been tagged.

    Zephyr said...

    Ready to give me a slap? No need.

    I don't get why anyone would want to slap you. It's only natural to grieve for what you can't do anymore. There's a different between allowing yourself to grieve and wallowing in it. Clearly you know that, because you're getting on with your life and doing what you can, but of course, you're always going to miss the things you can't do anymore. I will always be sad that I can't climb trees or ride a bike anymore. That's OK.