One day not too long ago, I stepped outside. I was shocked by what I saw.
Flowers! Flowers, everywhere! All the trees were blooming and there was suddenly life again in the concrete jungle! To say the least, I was ecstatic. I needed this. I needed it more than I realized.
I have come to the conclusion that I might very well suffer from SAD. Seasonal affective disorder. I love having seasons, I would never live anywhere that was always the same, but winter is just not my time of year. For the past four Februaries--without fail--I have slipped into a deep depression. For three of them, it lasted well into March.
Like clockwork, horrible things kept happening in the beginning of every year and I began to associate New Year's with darkness, consistently cheering "to a better New Year" or to the chance that this one "won't be like the last." It hasn't worked. But the reason I don't want to say I suffer from the disorder is because these things actually were happening, and all at once. It wasn't my mind just being dull and saddened, it was extremely upsetting things that kept coming and coming and beating me down, seemingly denying me any shot of ever standing back up.
However, Aprils have been my saving graces. Once the sun starts to shine, I just feel better. I see flowers and I just smile, even if everything around me is still shitty as ever. Literally, nothing has been resolved or improved--yet I smile and feel better. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but that's me. Sometimes I hate myself for it, because I know that all the shit is still there, just packed down and hidden. I know it will soon all come right back, but I just don't seem to care.
Living in the city, I have an even greater appreciation for the blossoming season. At home, I saw life everywhere. I mean, I had my pets, my big backyard, the deer that like to live in my woods, the drives to and from school, the trees all around my school that I stared at for so many hours when I couldn't focus in school. Here, I look out of windows and see brick. Concrete. Plaster. Steel. Rust. Maybe some wood, if I'm lucky.
But now that the weather is nicer, I've taken steps to support my apparent necessity for sunlight and for nature. I stroll the long route home rather than city-walk the regular way, so I can just taste the fresh air a little longer. I purposely take streets that I know have the most trees, particularly the ones where the trees are so big and so numerous that they lean into and over the street, shading it off completely. I go to particular stores just so I can walk by community gardens, even if there's a closer store or if I don't even really need to go at all. I sit for hours in Washington Square Park reading, people watching, and just listening to the wind as it dashes between the leaves. I love it.
Yesterday, I was speed walking (because I was a little late for class) and I noticed a sort of wound in one of the trees. It was a hole that was just smaller than the base of your Starbuck's coffee cup. It was old and closed up, not like the city had just ripped out the arm yesterday. But for some reason, I noticed it. It wasn't particularly conspicuous or anything, my eyes just wandered to it and my mind took note of it. I can't explain it, but that's what happened.
So I go to class (even after Obama blocked off my street and made me take a detour) and have difficulty focusing. My mind's racing and I'm thinking about a lot of different things. This is the sort of thing that fades away once the flowers are out. The fact that this was happening upset me greatly; I had hoped I was past this February.
I walk out of the building, slightly frazzled and still upset. I would just go sit in the park but it's a little chilly and I have a lot of research to do for my finals. So I'm power-walking my way back home on the shortest, most efficient route. But another one of my streets is blocked by what seems to be... a carnival? I have NO clue what was going on--NYU does not do fun very often and what on Earth could possibly be the occasion today? Obama fucking up traffic patterns? GREAT. THANK you, Mr. President. Let's throw a party. But I don't have lots of extra time, I can't afford to mull around the various tents set up. So I detour back the way I detoured there. I come to the same row of trees as I had before and I smile. For the first time that day, I smiled.
There was a wound just like the one I had seen beforehand. Essentially identical in size, shape, and age as far as I could tell. However, it was different. In this wound, this hole where its arm was ripped out and life was denied and destroyed, leaves and a single blossom had sprouted. There was life being created as a direct result of the opposition to it. I couldn't help but smile. Call me a geek, but it was a sign.
I could sit and mope in the slums of things, or I could push through it all and grow from it. I could form myself again from the remnants of the past. Like a phoenix, I could rise from the ashes and be born again.
All these terrible things that keep happening have made me a stronger person. If that first year hadn't happened, I don't think I would've been able to get past the second, and so on and so forth. These depressions and horrible events--awful as they are and as much as I hate them--perhaps I need them. Perhaps they're guiding me somewhere. So maybe it's not SAD, maybe it's just my annual rebirthing process. Maybe it is SAD; who knows. All I know is that the flowers are here. So everything's going to be alright.
...is that the point of Earth Day?
The A.S.S.
Disclaimer: I am not a flower child. Really.
Flowers! Flowers, everywhere! All the trees were blooming and there was suddenly life again in the concrete jungle! To say the least, I was ecstatic. I needed this. I needed it more than I realized.
I have come to the conclusion that I might very well suffer from SAD. Seasonal affective disorder. I love having seasons, I would never live anywhere that was always the same, but winter is just not my time of year. For the past four Februaries--without fail--I have slipped into a deep depression. For three of them, it lasted well into March.
Like clockwork, horrible things kept happening in the beginning of every year and I began to associate New Year's with darkness, consistently cheering "to a better New Year" or to the chance that this one "won't be like the last." It hasn't worked. But the reason I don't want to say I suffer from the disorder is because these things actually were happening, and all at once. It wasn't my mind just being dull and saddened, it was extremely upsetting things that kept coming and coming and beating me down, seemingly denying me any shot of ever standing back up.
However, Aprils have been my saving graces. Once the sun starts to shine, I just feel better. I see flowers and I just smile, even if everything around me is still shitty as ever. Literally, nothing has been resolved or improved--yet I smile and feel better. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but that's me. Sometimes I hate myself for it, because I know that all the shit is still there, just packed down and hidden. I know it will soon all come right back, but I just don't seem to care.
Living in the city, I have an even greater appreciation for the blossoming season. At home, I saw life everywhere. I mean, I had my pets, my big backyard, the deer that like to live in my woods, the drives to and from school, the trees all around my school that I stared at for so many hours when I couldn't focus in school. Here, I look out of windows and see brick. Concrete. Plaster. Steel. Rust. Maybe some wood, if I'm lucky.
But now that the weather is nicer, I've taken steps to support my apparent necessity for sunlight and for nature. I stroll the long route home rather than city-walk the regular way, so I can just taste the fresh air a little longer. I purposely take streets that I know have the most trees, particularly the ones where the trees are so big and so numerous that they lean into and over the street, shading it off completely. I go to particular stores just so I can walk by community gardens, even if there's a closer store or if I don't even really need to go at all. I sit for hours in Washington Square Park reading, people watching, and just listening to the wind as it dashes between the leaves. I love it.
Yesterday, I was speed walking (because I was a little late for class) and I noticed a sort of wound in one of the trees. It was a hole that was just smaller than the base of your Starbuck's coffee cup. It was old and closed up, not like the city had just ripped out the arm yesterday. But for some reason, I noticed it. It wasn't particularly conspicuous or anything, my eyes just wandered to it and my mind took note of it. I can't explain it, but that's what happened.
So I go to class (even after Obama blocked off my street and made me take a detour) and have difficulty focusing. My mind's racing and I'm thinking about a lot of different things. This is the sort of thing that fades away once the flowers are out. The fact that this was happening upset me greatly; I had hoped I was past this February.
I walk out of the building, slightly frazzled and still upset. I would just go sit in the park but it's a little chilly and I have a lot of research to do for my finals. So I'm power-walking my way back home on the shortest, most efficient route. But another one of my streets is blocked by what seems to be... a carnival? I have NO clue what was going on--NYU does not do fun very often and what on Earth could possibly be the occasion today? Obama fucking up traffic patterns? GREAT. THANK you, Mr. President. Let's throw a party. But I don't have lots of extra time, I can't afford to mull around the various tents set up. So I detour back the way I detoured there. I come to the same row of trees as I had before and I smile. For the first time that day, I smiled.
There was a wound just like the one I had seen beforehand. Essentially identical in size, shape, and age as far as I could tell. However, it was different. In this wound, this hole where its arm was ripped out and life was denied and destroyed, leaves and a single blossom had sprouted. There was life being created as a direct result of the opposition to it. I couldn't help but smile. Call me a geek, but it was a sign.
I could sit and mope in the slums of things, or I could push through it all and grow from it. I could form myself again from the remnants of the past. Like a phoenix, I could rise from the ashes and be born again.
All these terrible things that keep happening have made me a stronger person. If that first year hadn't happened, I don't think I would've been able to get past the second, and so on and so forth. These depressions and horrible events--awful as they are and as much as I hate them--perhaps I need them. Perhaps they're guiding me somewhere. So maybe it's not SAD, maybe it's just my annual rebirthing process. Maybe it is SAD; who knows. All I know is that the flowers are here. So everything's going to be alright.
...is that the point of Earth Day?
The A.S.S.
Disclaimer: I am not a flower child. Really.
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