I despise using the word hate. But I hate a few dates on the calendar. Even the weeks leading up to them bring on bouts of anxiety. Diagnosis four years ago. Relapse three years ago. Within the same cluster of days. I have kept myself very busy the past few days and have tried not to let the fear set in. I try to focus and keep my head in the right space. Most days that comes pretty naturally to me.
It is easier during the day. Night, and the silence of it, exacerbates the worry. Allows the memories to flow. Some memories I have forgotten about or placed away deep in my brain come back to life.
The month of October used to be my favorite but now I want to rush through it and get past it. I even tell myself that the dates don’t matter. But they do matter. They don’t own me but I do get waves of emotion. I let the tears flow if they need to, take a few deep breaths and then do something that helps me feel strong and healthy.
Writing this is hard. I have learned that burying the feelings is only a temporary ‘fix’ because they will find a way to make you pay attention. Sometimes I struggle acknowledging these feelings. I am not focusing on them, but acknowledging them, and using them as motivation.
Motivation to live in the moment, savor the day to day, feel enriched by what some feel are mundane daily activities. I am blessed to be alive, which is exactly what I plan to be for the next 40-50 years. Healthy, Strong & Whole. Those three words I repeat to myself numerous times a day. Every day.
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