In a recent session, my therapist could see my mind was spiraling. I was talking a mile a minute in a stream of consciousness that even the Micromachine Man would have had trouble keeping up with.

I know very few will get that reference. 

She walked me through closing my eyes, slowing down, and steadying my breathing until my mind was calmer. During my verbal vomit, she took note about how much of it revolved around my need to control…well…everything.

I told her I start to feel like this every spring. As the school year is winding down with so many loose ends and the chaos of summer upon me, I can’t help but want to put some order into my life where there is none. Then she asked me a question I had never considered.

Is there any trauma in your life that you can think of from this particular time of year or season?

BINGO! 🤦🏻‍♀️

Could it be my life floating away in a flood that changed the course of our lives? No! I had processed all that…dealt with it. Right? RIGHT?

Um…apparently not. 

The body remembers what the heart tries to forget. 

Just as the weather warms and the spring rains start to fall…I tense. It’s not anything I’m even aware of. But when I look back at my slices over the last 10 years and put myself in that mind space of when I was writing them, I can feel it. It’s hard for me to miss with the new found clarity. There’s an undertone of me trying to convince others [myself] that everything is fine. I present the the Instagram worthy version of my life each March when I am actually holding on by a thread.

If you don’t know, 13 years ago on April 18th, just 2 months after getting married, a catastrophic 500 year flood hit our neighborhood. It destroyed our home and most of our belongings including wedding gifts still in their boxes. It put our lives into turmoil for many years. Plans we had were postponed or changed so drastically that I cannot even picture myself as a bright-eyed newlywed. Since the flood, I feel as if I’ve always been weary. It’s like I haven’t fully relaxed since then…always on alert. We were robbed of that time together having to move in with my parents for nearly 5 years. I’m not sure I’ve ever fully recovered.

Would we still be living in the blue house? 

Would we have ever landed in the delightful community in which we now live? 

Would I ever have ended up going back to grad school and changing jobs? 

Would we have three kids or would I have won out with the 4 or 5 kids I wanted back in those days? 

When it rains now, I don’t immediately fear that 10 feet of water will be invading my home. But do I think about how we purposely bought on the top of the hill and I’m grateful for it. I know why my husband is obsessed with making sure sump pumps are working and we have moisture alarms near every water source. We have protected ourselves from repeating the past…giving us the safety we deserve.

But does my body know we are safe? My subconscious? Probably not. It doesn’t seem like they have caught up yet.

So when my therapist asks if there is some trauma from the spring or the change of seasons…my body is answering for me.

I am writing for the 19th annual Slice of Life challenge presented by Two Writing Teachers.