spring grievances

when the flowers bloom, i’m born anew

May 03, 2025

my new year never really begins on january 1st. i’ve never really felt motivated or invigorated by the chill or the spark of fireworks. new year's resolutions and midnight kisses were never that important to me, as much as that tender part of me craved them.

that transition from december to january always felt rushed, bitter, and stiff. how can i be expected to emerge as this new person, fresh and prim, by the strike of a clock? it's abysmal and i hate it. regardless, i half-heartedly dish out my resolutions, my ins and outs, and my goals for the year in traditional new year fashion but i don't bother reaching for them until march.

it is the spring that beckons me forward and pulls me out of my cocoon into its gentle embrace. where my when’s turn to now’s and i become rejuvenated. i feel myself coming back to life alongside the nature and that is when i allow myself to count blessings and, of course, my grievances.

spring is the season of shed and growth. new skin, new hair, new eyes. i’m pink and raw and my nails are gnawed down to the bone. in the spring, i grow it all back. softer and kinder and still me.

i tear myself apart and sew myself back together. i forgive myself for what i’ve done in the winter and i pray the harvest lasts a little bit longer when the cold calls to take it all back. in vernal, i replay old interactions, hesitant touches, trashed projects - examining them under spring's honest light. and oh, how i love the candor that comes with the lilies. the realization i can only feel when i look out at the daisies and the tulips. i feel most beautiful when i'm honest, so it makes sense that coming into spring feels like coming home.

spring is freshly born lambs wobbling on new joints in green fields and understanding the pity i feel for them is the pity i also feel for myself. in their uncertain steps, i see that i too am learning to walk again. my body remembers this feeling every year - this sense of beginning again, of trying again. despite, despite, despite.

spring forces me open. my body a cold cadaver repulsed by warmth, and i am forced towards the light. i scream and cry, but in the end i am grateful—because i can finally stop mistaking gentle caresses for wounded fists.

my anatomy mimics that of morning glory, insides exposed for the world to bare and smell. vulnerable and unfolded, no longer closed against winter's bite. i lose it all just to be whole again, and it's a process that is beautiful as it is painful.

the world will close me up again come fall, but for now, i count my grievances like fallen petals and my blessings like new buds. this is the honest accounting that january could never demand of me…. 𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬