Rainy Day

Why is it that the rain makes us sad? It brings life. It makes the flowers grow. There are many cliché statements about this very idea, and yet something about cloudy or rainy days just leaves something to be wished. Although the sun would literally burn the earth if it were to shine everyday, despite the fact that we understand the importance of the storms, we wish the sun would shine continually.

The same goes for life. I wish things were easy all the time. But, things are not. They’re hard and they will always be hard. The actual events and stresses will change, but the general feeling will stay. We cannot be perfect. Our lives will never always be sunny. We’ll have cloudy days, we might even have personal Hurricane Katrina’s, but they have a purpose. They have to.

Movies and religions and art and philosophy have picked up on this idea: I’m not original or saying anything ground breaking here. Humans have had a sensed this idea for millennia.  The first example that comes readily to mind is a quote from Batman Begins, “Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.” Of course, there are other saying, quotes, and ideals based around this thought.

That’s all well and good, knowing that life is hard and it’s supposed to be hard. It is nice to realize everyone is like you, everyone is suffering and struggling. You’re not alone. But that doesn’t make you feel happy in the midst of a rainy day. The pain you feel and the pain you know is out there compound and the wind starts howling.  The clouds darken and thicken. It seems as if there is no chance for the storm to cease, or that if it does, you will not be around to see it. It will have sucked your life out of you before it itself dies. Just the knowledge that we are supposedly being built up for greater things offers no comfort, only a bitter taste.

The clouds make me feel claustrophobic. I miss the open sky. Gravity increases and the air compounds around me, pushing my feet into the earth. Each step requires staggering effort. Even the thought of jogging or making any sort of progress seems completely unreasonable. The best anyone can expect of me is survival, let alone excellence. But they do expect it. I expect it. And when I cannot overcome my own fears I become stagnated. The hope of a small ray of sunlight penetrating the darkness above me is fleeting at best, I have no power to change the continence of the heavens, and yet I have been told to be an agent and not a victim. But how can I fight this storm?  

The simple answer is I can’t. It’s too big, I don’t understand what causes it and even though I experience the effects, I lack any ability to predict more as well.  It changes so often and drastically that I cannot hope to find any pattern. Some things have been around so long that I didn’t realize that they were outside myself, identifiable, and fallible. But knowing is not a change, a label does not create a solution. I know why it’s happening, but I am just as powerless as before. The monster has a name, the storm is identified, but neither is conquered.

I have ADHD. I didn’t know until 6 months ago. It made me wonder what would have been different if  hadn’t dominated my life for so long. By defining me, you have also defined ADHD and vice versa. I don’t know who I would be without it. Mental health is such a new facet within our knowledge of life and the way people work that it is seen as mysterious and almost superstitious. I remember I doubted the effect that such a diagnosis could have in middle school. My best friend took some test and a doctor told her she was ADHD and she was scared. I thought it was ridiculous. It didn’t change who she was or the way she acted, it just put a name to a cluster of behaviors… And yet now, as I try to break out of those very same behaviors, I feel her panic. What makes the disorder different from myself, or am I just the disorder. Am I a disorder? Is there something wrong with me?

I see it in my actions, thoughts, and words. Every day it affects me. Despite the fact I have identified the fault within the very make up of my brain, how am I to reorder the neurons? How do I clear the fog? When my brain is a whirlwind, and certain things strike like lightning and others slide through like rain, how can I remember that there is a sun behind the clouds? Faith? Cock-eyed optimism? Hope? Humanity?

I don’t know. All I know is without whatever it is, life would be pointless. I know that rainy days happen, so maybe I can start thinking. Preparing for what is ahead. Carry your umbrella proudly. It is not weak to acknowledge the possibility of storms, it is wisdom to see the weakness and arm yourself  however you can to deal with the deluge that is life.