The Legendary Fall

The magic and the tragic

STRAWBRIDGE with Bing Image Creator

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I have been fascinated by Legends of the Fall ever since hearing about it long ago. That is to say, the words hold some considerable weight in the far reaches of my mind, and I am not referring to the events or characters in the film. Although, it is a good movie.

The words are mysterious and indicate something extraordinary. Finally I realized that, in my head, they must represent everything about the Fall season, what happens at this time of year, and how I feel about those happenings. That is what I want to talk about, and it all applies to mental health.

I guess it is true that Fall/Winter are my favorite seasons. The cold weather is better than the oppressive heat of the South. For anyone who struggles with their weight, putting on more clothes is preferred over showing more skin. That’s not my primary reasoning for enjoying Fall, but it is one that people don’t admit to very much.

Fall takes place during the Holiday months, of course, and Winter ends around my birthday. In the South, there is little difference between Autumn and Winter, by the way. Therefore, my brain does not separate the two.

The air is crisp, and Fall is also when football starts. Around here, following one’s favorite team is even more important than Christmas. Oh yeah, and right about now begins the season of eating, as well.

And, Fall is legendary for reasons I hope I’m able to articulate.

My next thought might seem strange to you, dear reader. Fall is the season of love—but especially young love. Again, being from the South matters to this story and might make your Fall recollections different from mine.

First, Friday nights are legendary because of both love and football—and the love of football. Everyone goes to the high school game no matter their lack of interest in the outcome. It is the place to see and be seen. Here, love can sprout between two people or take its place in the heart of a young man crushing on some girl.

You see, at the game young folks have some greater degree of freedom. There are places to hide. Older folks are busy living and dying by every play. It’s somewhat cold, and that is an essential part of both my magical and terrible memories of love and football.

Chilly air gives people a reason to get close. Even the awkward guys can slide over to their love interests without making a complete fool of themselves. Well, sometimes this is true.

The game is only the beginning of what might take place on Friday night. The game is the meeting spot where plans are hatched for later fun. Maybe there is a party. Better yet, there might be a party of two that is dreamed up for some little hideaway around town.

Fall is also the time of hayrides, bonfires, and “camping.” In my day, camping simply meant the permission to do whatever one wanted away from adult eyes. All of these things brought the chance of romance that never left the mind of every young person. This is the key to my hazy reminiscing about my seasons of youth.

For me, possibilities came and went with unfulfilled potential. The Fall was tragic and even now blends pleasant and melancholy feelings.

I had severe anxiety that only time and treatment has alleviated. I was terrified by social situations, and even more so by one-to-one intimacy. Furthermore, for some reason, I could not understand people when they spoke; what they meant instead of what they said. That world of subtle communication was closed off to me.

To try to explain, my fear was other people and everything else outside my mind. Trying to function in public was hard, as I believed every eye was on me at all times. Everyone could see me sweating in the spotlight, I assumed.

The feeling of tragedy was and still is real. I was absent from some of those scenes that compose a healthy life story. I wanted to star in a romantic comedy but was a bit player in some dark teen drama.

The nothingness of my existence hurt and left deep wounds.

Fall can cause harm for the very reasons we associate it with merriment. When one feels depressed, other people’s happiness is like mockery. Holidays become absurd spectacles that the deeply depressed person cannot imagine surviving.

I enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas but also dreaded them when those days on the calendar finally arrived.

To a kid, Christmas is certainly legendary. Everyone likes receiving gifts, and I also enjoyed hunting for the perfect present for others. There are mall trips, great anticipation, indulgent eating, and family gatherings. It was this last part of the holiday season that fed my anxiety.

There is a theme developing here about love, relationships, and the failure to secure both. Nothing was better than dreaming of those fantastic butterflies one receives when with a genuine love interest. Christmas makes the arrangement of physical closeness and happy emotions reach peak levels. These things regularly filled my thoughts.

Holidays facilitated and encouraged love and distressed those, like me, who remained lonely and apart from the mainstream.

Mental illness is plenty bad on its own, but it is worse when no one will acknowledge that it lives in you. I started to dislike me very much. This person I inhabited must have been born with some broken parts. Now, I know better.

In one sense, the holidays got worse every year. My streak of not having a relationship became legendary for all the wrong reasons. It was embarrassing.

All that I am telling you wrecked my mental health, although now I receive treatment and medication.

I learned later in life that some of us cannot fit into the mold others design and prefer. As kids or adults, we should not feel ashamed for unique learning styles or having ambivalent feelings about traditions. Most of all, I will not apologize for my inappropriate sadness, because your genuine emotions cannot be wrong.

What we do with those emotions is another subject.

Yet, I have regrets and always will. That part of my story where “puppy love” was meant to be, cannot be accessed. Some things pass by and are gone forever.

Some dreams are not deferred, because that word implies some future conclusion where one’s hopes come true. Some dreams remain only legends, forever.

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THANKS FOR READING. HAVE YOU EVER HAD TROUBLE DEALING WITH THE HOLIDAY SEASON? WAS THE FALL LEGENDARY TO YOU? IS IT NOW? SHOULD I STOP ASKING QUESTIONS? YES.

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