I have spent the last two years feeling down, a little sad, stressed, or anxious. I have spent days and weeks unable to leave my bed, a constant tiredness, a sharp pain in my chest that made everything seem meaningless. My journey through anxiety has been strenuous and demanding; ergo, I am writing this with pride, hope-filled and excited to finally have found the courage to break out of my seed and blossom. Because after a very long winter, my spring has finally arrived.
Springtime is seen as a time of new growth, renewal, of rebirth and new beginnings. In all world traditions, whether it is the victory of a God of Light over the power of darkness, the Christian resurrection of Easter or the prayers to the Kami for crops and blessings upon the year ahead, symbolism of spring is one most people can appreciate and rely to. For me, it took a couple of years to find great inspiration in the journey of a budding flower, one that seems to parallel my foray through anxiety. I guess when surrounded by love, this transition becomes more comfortable.
I have experienced days growing longer and warmer, but nothing as magical as this particular spring. As I am writing this, I can hear the Chiffchaffs singing, baby chicks chirping, wind chimes blowing in the breeze, and the sound of the rain drops lightly hitting the fish pond. Birds have returned home, earliest spring bulbs are blossoming, awakening a sea of flowers, and the pristine and fresh fragrance of earth to smell after this rain, a scent I well know.
You see, I have never challenged my pessimistic thoughts before. I have aligned my negativity with the primary action of each season. During autumn, I witness the falling of leaves with the falling of my mental health. The stillness that settles over the land in winter is the memo for the hibernation of my soul. In spring, there is already a restless energy in the air and the hot weather in summer closely mirrors my panic attacks. But maybe, I have been too hard on myself. As a seed, it has taken me too long to see my inner strength — the flower that I would become.
Though now, as a budding flower, I crave to open my petals and greet the sunshine.