How Respecting My PTSD Has Improved My Life.

We were both pretty “weird.” She was goth. I was kind of nothing…I went from social circle to social circle, but didn’t feel like I was a part of any one group. I was proud of being a kind of…

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Snow

I could stare at snow for hours. Not standing outside, of course. From inside, with the heating on, a warm sweater, a hot cup of tea. I don’t get to see it that often and it absolutely fascinates me. There are so many aspects to it.

When you stare directly into the sky and it seems like it’s disintegrating into a myriad tiny pieces. Like the sky is literally falling on our heads, but in a friendly way, saying, see, apocalypse wasn’t so bad after all. It’s dizzying, hypnotizing.

Then you start to focus on the actual flakes. It’s best to concentrate on the building across the street for this, because it’s red, which really highlights the snowflakes. How big they are, some seem almost as big as my fist! I have a tiny fist, and they are not *as* big, but, yeah, they are pretty big. And how slow they seem. While I was staring into the sky, they seemed so fast, and now I can count one, two, three, even four until they get to the street. Of course they don’t stick, they disappear as soon as they hit something solid. I count many of them.

So many, that my eyes start to loose focus, and then I don’t see flakes anymore, I see streaks of white. White rain. Now they seem fast again. Now the world is gone and there is just movement. And I am not in the world. Although I am standing still by the window, I am movement too.

I don’t know how long I stand like that. It feels like hours, but it’s probably closer to five minutes. When I turn away from the window, it feels like I am coming back from a long, long journey.

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