I’ve spent many years struggling with depression and anxiety tied to the ups and downs of my cyclical hormone levels. (The doctors think I’m allergic to myself—how lucky is that?) Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I feel like I am so deep in the darkness I’ll never find my way out. It’s gotten more predictable in the last few years because I know what I’m looking for, both on the calendar and in my body, but maybe its denial; I’m still frequently surprised when I find myself yet again, in that hole.
I am not a person, who, if asked, would say I am opposed to surprises. I even like them most of the time. In general, I prefer a somewhat unpredictable life, filled with freedom and chances and unknown possibilities waiting to pop up and be embraced. I am relatively adept at curve balls. I wonder as I write this if I would say that before the last ten years of trial had taught me how little power I have over what happens in the universe.