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Community Mosaic Entry - Role - Direct Experience

Signs of Spring

When I walked out my front door that morning, I didn’t know if it was early spring or late fall. 

The air was cool. The trees were bare. I looked out over the wide lawns that stretched from each neighbor’s identical house and down to our street. The grass had a dormant and wintry look – but was that winter coming, or going? 

Until that moment, I never realized that those two transitions could look so similar. 

Until that moment, I didn’t know it was possible for the human mind to lose its placeholder in the passage of time.

I was completely unmoored from time – adrift and searching for landmarks.

One year later, and the seasons have repeated their ceaseless cycle. I see the bare and leafless trees and the just-a-little-bit-green grass that isn’t growing taller, and I remember that moment where I spun in terrified timelessness.

Now I desperately need the reassurance of spring flowers. I seek them out, and stare in relief. Blossoms anchor me to the present time, and ward off the lurking memory of confusion.

Written in March 2015, on my son W’s 1st birthday; I experienced postpartum psychosis immediately after his birth in 2014.

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