I’m sitting in my cozy chair, soaking in the January sun, with my cup of coffee in my hand and my dog curled in my lap. I stare out the window at the sun, snow, and barren branches, while listening to the healing music on my playlist in the background. I have achieved Zen. But, as I sit here in my zen state, I wonder why I’ve always hated winter.
I’ve loathed winter for as long as I can remember. It’s not just the snow, the severe weather, the illnesses, or early darkness. I just despise winter. Without ever being diagnosed, I would blame it on seasonal affective disorder.
Then in 2020, I changed as a result of my soul homework and the pandemic. Last winter was the first time I was able to appreciate the small treasures that these dark, cold months bring.
Soaking the sun in spots on my floors, putting blankets in the dryer, snuggling with my dogs, watching them enjoy the fireplace.
I used to write about my difficulty with winter in amusing ways to avoid making my readers uncomfortable, but now I understand I should’ve been more straightforward. Winter was less about the cold and more about a deeper homesickness that I couldn’t get rid of.
Watching the birds huddle on our barren trees in between feedings from our window feeder. Sleeping in and eating more oranges.
As I sat in my sun-filled chair, staring out my window at the winter scene, I am instantly struck with the realization as to why I hate winter. It comes to me as if I’d been hypnotized and snapped awake. My dog sat up and licks the tears from my face as I begin to cry.
Appreciating the light that lingers each evening as we get one day closer to spring, reading more books in the evening when the sun does go down.
The nurse forced me to go into my classroom. That awful classroom. Where no one makes eye contact and I look out the window and see snow on the ground. I wished to die that year. It was the first time in my life that I recognized the concept of agony.
Winter is bad.
Winter is associated with suffering.
Winter is synonymous with abandonment.
For a long time, I believed winter had a personal vendetta against me. Since learning what my hatred of winter was rooted in, it has changed me.
Winter, maybe you’re not that bad after all.