anniversaries

It's an odd thing how years go 'round and 'round.

This October, my mind keeps going back to the October two years ago when, as I have explained it to several people, I crashed and burned. I am thinking often of what led to the crisis—good and bad: Shaun's suicide, grandma getting sick and better, a cousin being born, me being given the opportunity to become the managing editor, a friend falling off her bike, other friends moving away, friendships falling apart, new friends appearing.

It was not a summer of little things.

These days, as our days get shorter, the wind blows sharper, and the mornings are frostier, I have felt a fraction of the dreariness that came upon me that October two years ago. Anxiety was a constant hum in my ears and in my body. Fear was my reaction to everything.

It was not an easy way to live.

In addition to the pensiveness (and twinges of anxiety) that I have felt in recent days, I have been saying a constant litany of gratitude for the gifts that appeared during that time:
- the mother who dropped everything to be with me
- the friend who sat on the couch for hours on end watching television with me
- the coworker who, having been gone for three weeks, came back to the office and knew, within two minutes of talking to me, that I was not okay—and asked about it
- the doctors who used their expertise to heal my mind, heart, body
- the friends who fed me, listened to me, and held me in prayer
- the musicians who gave me a lyrical and melodic soundtrack for lament

Today I have noticed a shift from anxious about this two-year mark to grateful that I have made it to this place. I am not where I was then, and thank God for that. But there's a little piece of me that needs to honor that process of growing beyond, to sit still for a while and ponder the work that has happened over these years.

It is work that deserves stillness.

It all sounds slightly saccharine, which isn't my intention. And I must admit a bit of frustration with myself for needing to write through some of this stuff about Shaun. But it's surfacing for a reason, and giving it room to breathe is better than pretending it doesn't exist.

And so today, I have been gentle—lightly cleaning rather than stressing about an untidy house, making shepherd's pie and eating well, focusing on work because productivity helps, asking a coworker to go for a walk so I got fresh air, writing the blog post I've known I needed to write but have avoided, relishing the phone calls of friends, and snuggling with a cat.

Indeed, this is a time that calls for gratitude.