Sad and scared of this summer

One of the things I like the most about Colorado is that it has four definite seasons — spring, summer, autumn, and winter, clearly marked and distinguishable, and similar to the places where I grew up in Europe as a child and young adult. My mind & soul enjoy the change of seasons, my body thrives on its connection to regular, cyclic seasonality. 

But now it’s playing against me. 

Now my deep, innate connection to the seasons, to seasonal smells and changes in light and temperature, and to all the memories that such natural clues evoke in me, is playing against me, as memories from last summer flood my consciousness at all levels (physical, mental, emotional) reactivating grief and yearnings that cannot be satisfied. 

I’m afraid of what this summer will bring, of how it will feel for me: I’m scared of the emptiness, the loneliness, the lack of purpose or direction, the confusion or lack of clarity. 

In five days I’ll be moving out of the place where I’ve been living for over a year and I’ll be house-sitting for friends down the street for three months. I’m very grateful to have the space all to myself and to be able to save some money on rent, especially in view of being unemployed in less than four months from now. But I’m also afraid of the loneliness that I might feel, in particular given that some of my dearest friends will be away for all, or parts, of the summer. This fear about an empty summer is also compounded by the fact that I won’t be able to climb because of my UCL injury/surgery/recovery, which leaves me without one of my most valuable sources of joy, community, and coping skills.

And then I’m scared of what will happen afterwards, in September, October, and the months to come. I’ll have to look for a new place to live in September: where? with whom? with what job? And what job do I want to do? What do I really want to do next in my life, apart from staying in this corner of Colorado? 

So much uncertainty, so much unclarity, so much emptiness. 

I’m sad about what’s here now and scared of what’s to come.