The Hope of Spring

A few months ago I posted about facing my own personal Autumn, in which I was thinking about a fallow time, a season of withdrawal and energy conservation. Now somehow feels like an appropriate time to consider the hope of renewal and new growth.

For the past 10 months or more I've been dealing with severe fatigue and exhaustion as well as awful brain fog. This has been - and continues to be - utterly debilitating, and has led to my retirement from work on the grounds of ill-health. I have spent a lot of time wrestling with the complex emotions of helplessness and hopelessness, of wondering what my value is if I can't do anything productive, of grief and sadness for all that I've lost. But as I wrote back in October, I've also been trying to focus on the good things that this withdrawal brought too - time to relax, to be with friends and family, to think about what really matters to me, and to consider who I really am without my job defining me and my role in the world.

As is the way with the seasons, there of course is no clear boundary; I haven't woken up one morning feeling that I have all the answers, but this does feel like a fresh start. The news that my application for retirement has been approved means that the stress of 'what happens if...' has been removed altogether, and now we can make plans and think about what we want life to be like. There are still days when I want to withdraw and sit quietly with the loss, but there are also times of hope for the beauty still to come, of preparation for later growth and flourishing.

I spent much of last year hiding in Minecraft - both playing it and watching others play it on Twitch and YouTube. Far from being a total waste of time, I firmly believe that this allowed me the space to process what was going on, and gave me a safe place to withdraw into, where I could control my world. Now, though, I don't want to just spend all my time staring at screens, so since January have barely logged in. Instead, I'm focussing on knitting and reading. Part of this I'm sure is my natural tendency to focus intently on one thing for a time, then move on to something else just as strongly for a while (ADHD hyperfocus, anyone?) - but I'm also now feeling ready to engage with the world differently. I've read more books this month than in the last half of 2025 put together I suspect, although I've not actually counted up. I've knitted a pair of socks in colourwork, which is a new 'skill' for me (not sure I'm quite ready to call my level a skill!), made huge progress on a knitted blanket, and produced one and a half triangular scarves in 5 days so far.

I'm hoping to get more musical activity going soon, too - there's a kind of talent show concert being arranged at church for the autumn, and I'd love to contribute an item or two with friends. Music making with others has always been a source of joy in my life, both singing in choirs and performing with much smaller groups. Maybe I'll even manage to get my flute out and play something!

One thing I've been missing painfully is time on the river. I simply can't go kayaking feeling the way I do - I absolutely couldn't manage an hour of physical activity, and it wouldn't be fair to the coaches or the rest of the group to try it. But the canoe group were super friendly and supportive when I joined them for a while after going through chemo, before I was allowed to kayak again. So as the evenings start to lighten, maybe I might be able to join them for their social paddles sometimes. Not that I expect to be able to contribute much paddling, but if someone could take me as a passenger I'd happily buy them a drink at the pub... Even just the thought of getting back on the river sometimes gives me hope.

This may seem like a strange kind of growth and blossoming to some - but to me it looks beautiful. The hope of more social music-making, of being on the river, nourished by time with friends and family, sustained by quiet times with books and knitting - that all sounds like a wonderful way of living, with above all, the time and space to enjoy Life.