The Cruelty of April1 min read

 April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. (from The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot)
It’s April 26 now. The sun is shining. 68 glorious degrees. A reassuring cool Spring breeze. Cruelty is as distant from this day as the East is from the West. But the nascent scent of lilacs blends with the stink of liquid manure. Unspoken hopes and mislaid dreams float on the surface of the ruddy lawns.

April this year has taken a desperate toll on my body and has sapped the strength of my psyche. The 30 pounds I lost the preceding six months have returned with a vengeance. The number alone does not trouble me, but the fact that I find it physically challenging to get out of bed does. A more serious concern is the gripping chronic pain I now have in my spine that shoots down my hip and leg. I am hoping to regain some functioning through physical therapy and (soon) walking.

My emotional cycling of my bipolar disorder this month has been exhausting. Primarily, I have been laid low by depression, temporarily springing upward to hypomania which robs me of sleep, prompting the need to take more sleep meds to avoid mania, which causes more depression. Ugh. And again. And again.

But this is behind me now. Today is not a day to look back with regret. Today is a day to celebrate the blessings of each day, each month. Today is a day to dance like fools for Christ through the fields, feel the earth beneath our toes, and sing praise to the maker of all seasons.



About the Author:

I am a man with an unquiet mind who delights in the One who delights in me.