7 Days of Snow

I used to have to drug myself when the weather was bad.
Anxiety comes and goes but it often comes when the weather is gloomy and dark. Lately it has been coming less and less and I attribute that to Susan, my therapist.
I have been in therapy for over 3 years now and the last year has been exceptionally good, when I started seeing Susan.
She is my confidante and the little voice inside my head that tells me to "be compassionate" with myself. In the year that I've been seeing her, I have learned so much about who I am and the different ways that my mind operates. With the progress that I've made, I have felt a shift in my soul. It's not even just a shift in my mental state, but myself as a whole. I am discovering who I am, and in doing so, how strong I am.
I have moved around most of my life and transitioned into the person I thought I needed to be when in different surroundings. I got so good at being a chameleon that I lost myself. When life finally slowed down and I lived in a city for more than a year or two I realized that I didn't know who I was or how I should cope with different situations.
One particular situation has been gloomy weather. In the process of stripping away the false layers and discovering who I really am, I stopped relying on the same sources of comfort that I was used to. That made coping with inclement weather or less-than-ideal situations all the more difficult. That allowed for anxiety to creep in.
I used to dream about the day when I wouldn't have anxiety anymore. I thought I would wake up and the clouds would dissipate, leaving me clear-headed and capable of handling anything. And then I realized that was never going to happen. Anxiety isn't something to cure. It is something I would need to learn how to live with and when I finally realized that, I also came to the conclusion that I didn't need to feel anxiety. It was something I could choose.
I have had anxiety since then, but I have also chosen to deal with it in a constructive way. Today, as I watch the snow fall from my living room for the 7th day in a row, I am proud of myself. I have been a "shut-in", as my sister puts it, for a week but instead of allowing that to make me feel claustrophobic I have chosen to view it as an adventure. This is just a storm; just an oddity. And it's a part of my life that I will look back on and say "oh yeah, I was there for that."
I am fully present and finding the fulfillment that comes with experiencing something out of the ordinary: like a crazy, unprecedented storm in Seattle.