The changing seasons has always been one of my favorite things. As I’ve moved around the country for my career, it was one of the things I frequently complained about missing since we were always in the south. Autumn is my favorite and as much as I love the south, it just couldn’t compete with fall back home. I love everything about it from the leaves to apple picking to the football. When we decided to return back “home” to the north nearly a decade ago for my job, one of the biggest things on my “PRO” list was the changing seasons. I was excited to finally have all four seasons again, even if it meant snow in the winter…my least favorite.
Those first few years were wonderful. It was as though I appreciated the beauty of the seasons with a fresh set of eyes. Even winter was wonderful and Christmas with snow was magical. I forgot what that was like. There were still the grey skies in the winter to contend with and the mild seasonal depression that is often associated with it, but overall, I had this new found appreciation for the beauty of nature with each passing phase.
I have always suffered from weather related migraines. So when we would get storms or changes in pressure, I would get headaches. My headaches had pretty much disappeared when I left the state the first time, 20 years prior. I had a few bad migraines over the years, but nothing that required any treatment. Unfortunately, when I moved back, I noticed an uptick in the frequency in headaches. Between weather patterns and a demanding career, everything started to change. I started joking that the state was trying to kill me…it turned out to be not such a funny joke.
By the time the aneurysm happened, I was having migraines multiple times a month, lasting 3-4 days at a time and they were made worse around the seasonal changes. Since the aneurysm, I dread the seasons changing. I especially feel this weight on me as autumn approaches and the sun sets earlier. When darkness falls at 5:00 and days are filled with grey skies and the sun is rarely seen, my mood becomes sullen, my headaches become more intense than usual, and I don’t want to leave the bed. Even with Spring and Summer, the changing of the seasons leads to intense pressure. The headaches are much worse and there is nothing to do but wait it out and let nature run the course and stabilize.
I live for those days when the sun is shining and the sky is blue when I can get out with my camera and try to ignore my headache even for the briefest of moments to find some peace and normalcy. I’m not the only survivor who tries to find a sense of normal in these moments. My friend, Mike, whom I met through my advocacy and whose aneurysm ruptured the day before mine, has his own approach.
For him, like me, the change to winter with the grey skies, biting cold winds, and the starkness of the snow can cause the doldrums. He tries to find ways to remain happy and returned to downhill skiing to embrace the season. He said it was scary for him because, as a survivor, he was afraid to fall and hit his head. Mike overcame it by acknowledging that survivors have already overcome such difficulty and he challenged himself to do it for all of those survivors who can’t physically do it. He told me that it was hard and extremely tiring, but it was very special when he finished.
Ultimately, for Mike, the challenge is to be in the moment and recognize each season’s beauty and feel lucky to be around to witness them. But isn’t that really the lesson for all of us? We survivors have known that our lives can change in an instant. We were given a crash course in perspective. But honestly, without sounding preachy, the last two years have taught us all that life can change in a moment. You can lose someone in the blink of an eye. I hope we each take a moment to appreciate those beautiful colors that nature gives us in that sunset, the peaceful quiet of a snowfall, the sound of the rain as it hits the roof. I hope you’ll mend fences and love each other because life is too short and it is taken away too suddenly.
Be safe. Be Well. Be Blessed