I hate this time of year

I love the spring, I love the sun, I love the fact that I can sit outside without freezing my arms off, and I love being able to walk and run again.

I hate finals, yes, and I hate the fact that every February/March, I am plagued with mysterious illness, depression, headaches, stomach aches, and my libido dies.

I finally did the math this year, in the doctors office as she noted on my charts, and realized that oh, yes, it was February that I was raped, and March that I terminated. How silly of me to forget the months, and displace them into November for some unknown reason. Every year for the past 7, I have been in and out of doctors offices around this time for the same set of concerns. I've missed classes, feared that I have ulcers, worried about the health of my brain as dizziness plagues me, and wondered if I'll ever feel happy again as the sun starts to shine and my spirit plummets.

I am strengthened by this realization of this association. Spring is coming.