Leaves crunched beneath our shoes as I walked Lia down a quiet street in Lake Oswego. The vivid reds, yellows, oranges, and even the browns brought a joy to my soul that is normally so far from me these days. It's been a long summer. Before that it was a long spring. Before that it was a long winter. Both the best and worst seasons of my life. But here we are, it's fall. Fall brings death, with death comes life.
I think I've unknowingly been ready for the death of the world. I have always loved fall, but this year there was a hope, a slow burning ember of hope deep in my gut that just felt like if I could make it to fall... it'd all be okay.
I want the world to die. Is that such a bad desire? Metaphorically of course. I want people to draw inward. I want there to be contemplation. I want there to be long monotonous days. I want there to be reflection. I want sadness to come upon the world at large, melancholy perhaps a kinder word to use. I want people to really think about who they are in this world... think about what they are doing.
Fall is here, death is happening, and I am happy. Occasionally. Certainly more so than these past months. I have started school. I am ever more falling in love with that little 13 1/2 year old that I spend my Mondays through Fridays with.
I am in a good spot. It seems like I am finally catching more breaks with my anxiety. It's no longer constant, I am adjusting to my medication finally, and the terrible dreams are slowly dissipating. My panic attacks are far fewer (though admittedly more startling now.) I have a fantastic roommate. And of course, I have much to be thankful for in my constant companion on this journey of life, Jacob.
In a way, I have died over these last several, painstaking months. The Samantha that once was carefree, happy, fun-loving, Christian with lots of answers, believer in humankind is gone. Replaced with a scared, vulnerable, tired, distressed, bitter, anxious, unbearably sad Samantha. The whimsical Samantha feels so far away. I am not sure who I am anymore and for once tired cliches aren't cutting it.
I still passionately believe in God, the presence of the Holy Spirit, and the Risen Christ. But it all looks differently now. It feels different too.
The crisp air brings death, but I feel I'm coming alive. Rebirth in fall. Who would have guessed?
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