The sun brings out so many good things. With the turning of seasons come buds– new life around us and new life in us. It’s the end of SAD for so many and the beginning of lighter, easier days. Seattleites (myself included) breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of blue skies and buds on trees and the hope of warmer, brighter days.
For others it’s different — with the end of depression comes the beginning of mania. It’s his secret phone calls outside or in the car, hiding, always hiding; secret packages delivered almost daily and the wondering (from us) how much money it all costs; it’s meticulous/obsessive meal planning and calorie counting — a drastic change from the noodles-and-butter diet of the depressed stage; it’s the always-wondering and always-hoping that nothing will be destroyed in the wake of his manic episode. But most assuredly something will be destroyed — the relationship, the bank account, the garden.
And the cycle continues over and over and over again. Just as seasons change from winter to spring, so those seasons change, too, from their own kind of winter to spring — yet from one darkness to another, and never spring.
With the same breath I breathe a sigh of relief that the sun has returned and lifted my own mood, yet hope that his manic episode doesn’t leave as much destruction as last time. But I know that it will. It always does, and it always will— as long as the seasons endure.