Fall Feelings

Hello again, it’s been longer than I intended. Nevertheless, I made it back. It’s the time of year I like to celebrate the small victories. Although sometimes it feels like small accurately describes my victories year-round. But on the note of returns, I count this one as rather triumphant.

In my previous/first little post here, I mentioned that I’m not the most motivated writer out there. So the fact that I am here, writing a second post without any prompting, feels validating. Around this time of year is when I need pick-me-ups. Seasonal depression, year-round depression, anxiety, stress, etc…whatever it may be, I find myself feeling a little lost when summer winds down. I’m not sure if it’s because life just seems to slow a bit, or if it’s a hint of sadness of summer ending, but my mind goes moody. Not that this is the only time my mind turns, it seems to be more fickle than most, but I feel like my thoughts are more brooding during this season.

I suppose that’s why I’m putting a little more insistence into this small venture. I’m not a person who does well to keep my thoughts to myself, I tend over-analyze and in turn overreact. I’ve tried a journal, and while I like the results, I just struggle through the process of actually writing. And I hate my handwriting, which I know- probably means I should spend a little more time writing. Boo. I’ve been to many a therapist, and while it’s nice to have someone respond, this is far cheaper and less socially draining. Personally, I also the freeness of posting when I want to, instead of on a schedule.

Honestly, I like the style of blogging also. It makes me feel like I’m sort of an author of mundane life, who may or may not have an audience. And I really don’t mind if I do, or don’t. I doubt that anybody would actually suffer through my ramblings, but if they did, perhaps it could be a comfort in a way. I know that I like listening to, reading about other people. What they do, what they think, what they feel. Not during exciting moments, or even significant ones, but just living and doing their best. It makes living and doing my best for myself seem less overwhelming. So I suppose it’s a feeling of comfort through unity, through knowing that life is sort of parallel for most. And it feels like the most authentic form of writing for myself. I’m not very creative, and I don’t care much for recording facts and events, but I love to write my thoughts, opinions, and feelings. It makes them feel real, and important.

I had the most wonderful teacher, for six years of middle school and high school. He was the catalyst for my love of writing. I was an avid reader long before we met, but I’ve never been a dedicated writer. At the time, in my brain writing = assignments. Writing was something talented people did for whatever reason, and writing was what I did for a grade. He managed to slowly mold it into something more expressive, pensive, and consoling. And honestly, I’m not sure if he knew or not how much I needed writing, but he was supportive and insistent that I should write. I’m eternally grateful that I had such a patient and persistent person in my corner.

As I finish up this small speech of mine, I feel light and content. Which is the best fall feeling I could hope for.

A.V.