I grew up in the South (yes, capital S) – Florida to be specific, and there, Spring is it’s own unique thing. Mostly it’s just a time for new tropical flowers to bloom, the weather gets warmer and it’s when we swap out our light jackets and hoodies for flip flops – if we’ve stopped wearing them at all.
As an adult, I moved north. Seasons were a new experience for me. Growing up in Florida, we didn’t really have them. The first northern Spring I experienced felt strange. I didn’t realize just how quiet Winter could be until the Spring came and suddenly, and weirdly, I began hearing the sounds of nature again. Birds chirping, squirrels rustling through the brush, the sound of bees floating around the back patio. I hadn’t realized they were gone, but suddenly, there they were again.
Depression is a lot like that for me. In the middle of it, I feel nothing. I don’t feel sad, or happy, or excited, or upset, I just don’t feel. But the weird part is that I don’t realize that the emotions are gone until they come back. Slowly they return, and like the birds chirping I start realizing I can feel. A smile or a laugh has something behind it again. It feels like coming back to life, and in a way, I do.