It’s Officially Summer, and I’m Not Sure Why I’m Not Dreading the Next Few Months

Friday was the first day of summer, the summer solstice, and my husband’s birthday. It was one of the first truly warm and sunny days of 2019, my wonderful mother-in-law was visiting, and even though I was/am still slowly emerging from a pretty rotten couple of weeks, the cause(s) of this rottenness likely triggered by an attempted Topamax decrease (more about that next time, probably), I was able to enjoy the sunshine because health stuff can’t take away the fact that I’m really, really enthusiastic about summer this year. I mean, I recently bought a romper and prescription sunglasses.

A romper. I’m all in.

For complicated reasons, this traditionally hasn’t been a season I’ve liked. That’s why I’m surprised to notice how relaxed and curious I feel about the next few months. Sure, my neurological challenges still loom large, but with each blip I experience, I acquire more evidence, and thus confidence, that despite my tendency to focus on what I can’t handle, I have the skills to get through situations that I sometimes interpret as being overwhelming, unfair, and intolerable. I’m also more consistently recognizing that one of the keys to preventing health crises from occurring in the first place is achieving balance, and what better time to work towards learning how to relax than when almost everyone is in vacation mode?

I could go on, but there’s no point overanalyzing why I’m not my usual summer-hating self this year. Instead, I might as well embrace this … positivity? as I look forward to whatever the next couple of months may bring. But—and I’m just putting this out there—fingers crossed for ice cream in the sun, many lazy days that I’m willing to accept as such, and no major seizures.