It has been 95 days. It has been almost 80 days since I last posted. To refocus is difficult but necessary.
This is the time that I struggle with the most. The shortening hours of daylight. The lengthening hours of darkness. The cold that seeps into the nooks and crannies of my apartment; it seeps into the nooks and crannies of my soul. The cold that makes me wonder if I will ever be warm again. The loneliness and nothing that make me question if I will ever feel alive again. Again, as if assuming I feel alive now, but I do not. I survive.
Alive is waking up at every sunrise, feeling rested and ready to take on the day. Alive is breathing in the fresh morning air with excitement, for the day’s adventures and discoveries. Alive is sleeping on the ground or laying in the grass and feeling connected. Alive is setting goals and achieving them. Alive is wanting to set goals, and achieve them. We must not dwell on the past. We must not dwell on our failures. (But what if we feel that they are crushing us? What if we feel that the only way to right the wrongs of our failures is to go back and succeed?)
But I wonder how I have made it through so many Minnesota winters. How I call this place my home. When I dread the winter and the cold. I fear everything that it brings. I am afraid of how the winter will make me feel, and it is still fall. It is different this time. My chest feels heavy, as if my heart has turned to stone. My chest feels heavy, as if blocks of ice are crushing it down. I feel that I have chosen the wrong path, but how are we to know what the right one was?