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torquillFall is my favorite season. Cool weather after the months of unrelenting heat; finally, the rains come to soothe the parched ground and bring everything back to life. Pleasant breezes smell of damp leaves. The sun is bright but not fierce, absent of the summer haze.
It is also associated with decades of trauma for me. Years of going back to the lonely, barren wasteland of school; the bitter disappointment that despite all the lovely new school supplies, nothing has really changed, and that I have to suffer through another nine months of isolation and derision. Years of searching new faces for friends and support, and finding none. Trying to find some academic subject which made it possible to tune out the rest, and only partially succeeding.
Later, the stress of being separated from my support networks and all I found familiar and comforting. Knowing I wouldn't see my sweetheart for heaven knew how long. Still having no friends, despite trying to find connection everywhere. Looking forward to months of desperate scrambling to keep up, sleepless nights, the screaming pain of my body protesting how hard I drove it. The deep bitterness of embracing the fact that I finally couldn't go on, that I had to go home in defeat.
After that, the anxiety that I couldn't cut it, that I'd have to give up again. The fight to get what I needed despite an unsympathetic and hidebound system. Feeling outcast, oddball, different because of my strange needs. More deprivation, physical and emotional. By the end of my school career, the prospect of another academic year was enough to plunge me into deep depression punctuated with panic attacks.
I wish I could simply savor fall, enjoy the softening of nature and the promise of renewal. But I still wake up in the very early morning, smelling damp leaves and panicking. I still see the angle of the sun over the brown grass and feel school looming over me. The sound of the bells and the children shrieking at the elementary school across the street bring it all back again.
It was an injury that I hadn't recognized before this, but it's one that may take a very long time to heal.
It is also associated with decades of trauma for me. Years of going back to the lonely, barren wasteland of school; the bitter disappointment that despite all the lovely new school supplies, nothing has really changed, and that I have to suffer through another nine months of isolation and derision. Years of searching new faces for friends and support, and finding none. Trying to find some academic subject which made it possible to tune out the rest, and only partially succeeding.
Later, the stress of being separated from my support networks and all I found familiar and comforting. Knowing I wouldn't see my sweetheart for heaven knew how long. Still having no friends, despite trying to find connection everywhere. Looking forward to months of desperate scrambling to keep up, sleepless nights, the screaming pain of my body protesting how hard I drove it. The deep bitterness of embracing the fact that I finally couldn't go on, that I had to go home in defeat.
After that, the anxiety that I couldn't cut it, that I'd have to give up again. The fight to get what I needed despite an unsympathetic and hidebound system. Feeling outcast, oddball, different because of my strange needs. More deprivation, physical and emotional. By the end of my school career, the prospect of another academic year was enough to plunge me into deep depression punctuated with panic attacks.
I wish I could simply savor fall, enjoy the softening of nature and the promise of renewal. But I still wake up in the very early morning, smelling damp leaves and panicking. I still see the angle of the sun over the brown grass and feel school looming over me. The sound of the bells and the children shrieking at the elementary school across the street bring it all back again.
It was an injury that I hadn't recognized before this, but it's one that may take a very long time to heal.
