I was spiraling this past weekend as I wrote in Depression Spiral into Darkness. I went out hiking instead of the many things that my brain was telling me to do. It’s springtime here in the south. The forest is beginning to come alive. The vibrant colors of spring are starting to push through the drab winter colors.
I began to compare that to myself. Spring is the time of renewal. A time when life went dormant during the cold months. Only to come forth once it is time. But only once it is time.
Time. When is it the right time for people, for me to come alive again? I don’t follow the patterns of wintry hibernation and spring renewal. No one does anymore. We have our own cycles, our own way of doing things that no longer sync up with nature.
We are left at a loss as to when the right time should be for everything. Even time itself is a human construct. Is there ever a right time? What would that look like if there was?
Perhaps there is not. Perhaps it is following a feeling, instinct, that it is the right time. If only we would listen to ourselves. If only I would listen to myself. I think I will know when it is time.
My brain aka Myggy (my nickname for my amygdala) would like to keep me in the same behavioral patterns. Because that makes the world predictable. It makes me predictable, and therefore safe. But that keeps me in the wintry darkness. It keeps me from seeing the world in all its colors and wonder.
Who wants to do that? Not me. I want to see the colors.