Season of Change

While I need to finish off some work this evening, my need for catharsis has trumped my need for finishing the task at hand and getting a good night's sleep. Autumn is upon us, evidenced by the abundance of pumpkin everything and myriad of comments about the weather. It's the most polarizing season for me - I very much feel it is the greatest time of year while simultaneously fighting off the psychological ghosts and ghouls that accompany me this time of the year. By definition, one would call this seasonal affective disorder, but this... this is different (as most people with seasonal affective disorder would probably claim, I am well aware). I assert this is not a case of denial because I am so forthright with my emotions, and over the past couple of years, I have developed a far greater awareness as it relates to my moods and how they are connected with the feeling side of me instead of the thinking side of me. For years I have known why autumn impacts me so; the problem extends far beyond five years ago, but five autumns ago saw the catalyst that brought everything to the forefront, and each subsequent autumn has further contributed to the difficulty waiting to confront me anew each September.

Why is it that autumn impacts me so? Well, it's the season that evokes the most emotion from me by far, which is always very trying for me. It is the time of year that coincides with all of my most vivid memories. Very nearly all of my greatest emotional occurrences fall within this timeframe, both positive and negative, and when you combine that with the changing weather and very distinct imagery, it's a sensory assault only further accelerating the journey into yet another period of days turning to weeks turning to months trying to stave off negativity and subscribe to the "this year will be different" line of thinking. In an attempt to condense the explosion of emotions into a nice, succinct package to at least partially explain the background psychology of the season for me, I'll say that all of my best and worst memories call autumn its home. This starts from childhood, where the memories more center around unadulterated joy - tag in the backyard was most fun in the cooler weather, the World Series was the height of my sports excitement each year as I rooted on my Yankees, and as I got a bit older, my own baseball season commenced this time of year. Halloween was the time of year you could be anyone in the whole world, a truly wondrous proposition for a child. And while we feel sorrow as children, I believe we don't have the intellectual capacity to have comprehend the depth of sorrow in our youthful years. It's actually quite interesting to think about: joy is often associated with something that is pure and simple, whereas sadness is one of the most complex emotions we can try to describe.

Later on in life is where the complexity came along, and all the notable timestamps fall within this pesky three month time period of the year. The numbers on the calendar could be any numbers, but we're wired to notice trends, and when the trend is that these experiences all occur within a certain window, it can be difficult to try and convince the brain that the window is not to blame. It was autumn where I found out what was wrong with me had a name, the day that I could no longer run away from the fact that the way I felt wasn't going away on its own. Relationships in my life have been few and far between, but they have commenced and ceased in or very very close to autumn. The greatest joy and the most excruciating pain have occurred in these months. Having your heart become consumed by the deluge of love violently cascading without any regard to what is in its path is unlike any other feeling, as is the feeling when that tide sweeps back out to sea, taking far more back with it in the process. I have seen my identity lost and found in this season. I have had my hope renewed, my confidence shattered, my emotions boil and freeze, I've hurt so badly because of things that I've had happen, things that I've seen, and perhaps most of all because of decisions I had to make. I've had my heart broken and I have broken someone else's heart. I've fought and fought, and I've also been so exhausted that I felt like giving up. I've found some of my greatest friends in the entire world in this time of year, including my dearest friend of all. I've discovered the music that has shaped much of the more recent past of my life. These memories all come rushing back along with the cool air. They force their ways to the forefront of my awareness with the playback of a song or the sound of a child's gleeful scream. As humans, we all have to deal with these sensations, but it's each individual's ability to cope with the sensations that define how much of an impact and what sort of impact they have on us, and unfortunately, for me, I was never endowed with much of a mechanism for tackling such issues.

I think heading into this autumn I had more conviction around the belief that this year would be different. Things in my life have been going pretty well, and I am happier than I have been in years, all things considered. Now, whether it be coincidence or if there's truly something to this "season of change", it of course has to happen that life would just throw some curveballs out there just to get me thinking. I think I have maneuvered that path okay so far, but that seed of doubt has been planted, the cool weather has rolled back in, and I have felt the anxiety rising within me, particularly having spent a week out of town from work in a place that houses some of the most vivid memories of mine (as fate would have it, the route from the hotel I was staying at to the office took me down a road that was the same route taken to go to a Halloween bonfire back on someone's farmland back in 2008). In contemplating this all, though, and thinking about my desire to try and make this autumn a great one to "break the cycle", it occurred to me that maybe that wasn't the best course of action, and perhaps a futile one, in all actuality. The more I thought, and the more I listened to some music, the more I felt that I had it all wrong. So often I think we have such black and white approaches to dealing with sorrow: either run from it or embrace it as our identity. Now, maybe what I was proposing was not to run from it, more to try and shove it aside and replace it with something else. Other times we wallow in our gloom because it identifies us. What I thought about, though, is to try and do neither of those things, to just try to see and understand the beauty in sorrow. I don't know that there is ever any "conquering" it, but some form of coexistence where it makes you appreciate and understand the role sorrow plays in the broader gamut of all human emotion is perhaps the best way to try and approach it. We don't try to appreciate that we feel sad, but we appreciate that we feel, period.

All in all, I don't know if this approach will be a beneficial one or not. It's certainly well-intentioned, and it seems to make sense to me (now), but I could just be digging myself a hole and no one would ever think to tell me as I could be just any other grave digger this spooky time of year, right? I do believe it's worth a shot, though. I cannot run from the seasons, rather than trying to run against the current, perhaps this is a way of riding with the current. Autumn is the season of change, so I may as well try something new!