I’ve grown so much this year, but SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) doesn’t care. However, therapy has allowed me to give myself grace. To recognize my energy is low and to make accommodations for that. Also, perspective helps me remember that this too shall pass. I’m able to understand what is happening and turn it over to God.

I’m using this lower energy time to really think about my book, my story that is in me to tell. I’m trying to go from reciting facts to getting in touch with what I felt and wording that. I spent so many years mushing down my feelings that it is hard to allow myself to explore them and capture them on “paper.” Here is my first poem, and I use that word very loosely.

Images flash in my mind

A jumbled mess

Memories that are not even mine.

Sunshine dresses, clothes all around

Footie pajamas, screaming, “MOM!”

Are these real or just

Spoken over me?

Did I miss her terribly?

I did when I got older.

The safest place for me to land.

Not safe but safest

The difference between

Being in a canoe in shark infested waters or

Being in a snake pit

With a stick.

At two years old,

I didn’t know

I missed the best years of my mom

Being a mom.

Or so I’m told.