Old Man Winter won’t keep us down

I pulled the curtains from my window and looked at the sky — grey and splotched with dark clouds that loomed heavily.

“Well, it’s going to rain…again.”

I could hear my partner behind me, moving closer. He wrapped his arms around me gently because he knew I wasn’t just commenting on the weather. He could hear the anxiety in my voice.

Recently, I’ve struggled to leave the warmth of my bed. The mornings are getting colder, the skies are growing darker. My body wants to hibernate. Waking up next to someone I care about certainly helps to soothe my anxiety and feel more willing to greet the day. However, whether I’m in a relationship or not doesn’t ultimately make much of a difference when weathering this storm. I know that being at peace with myself is the most important thing, but loving myself is not always easy. Being motivated and driven to “live life to the fullest” can sometimes feel daunting. Every day I must manage, and every day I’m managing.

The cold and damp outside sinks into my bones, and I feel conflicted. I have always loved autumn — the bright hues of the leaves, the pumpkins on the stoops, the celebration of all things macabre. But once October passes, my excitement subsides. T. S. Eliot wrote that April was the cruelest month, but for me, November promises stagnation and a harsh winter to follow. It is April that begins to break the spell I enter, common to many others who experience seasonal depression this time each year. Lana Del Ray and I both know however, that summertime sadness is totally a thing for people too.

The first year I really noticed the seasons affecting me so significantly was halfway through high school. I remember feeling down, but knowing there wasn’t a particular reason for it. There was no big crisis. I didn’t have an easy answer for why I was depressed, but I knew this wasn’t going away overnight. In the winter months of my senior year I found solace reading the late author Ned Vizzini’s novel It’s Kind of a Funny Story. The narrator of the story, a teen named Craig, also felt depressed and couldn’t explain why. I was feeling as though I couldn’t justify my struggle because I couldn’t point to a specific reason or event in my life that caused this kind of reaction. It was refreshing and comforting to have a voice on the page speaking so candidly and with such vulnerability. I felt like I knew him. Each word resonated with me, and I felt as though he was transcribing all the feelings I couldn’t articulate. It was during the ice storm in Toronto on December 20th, 2013 that I learned that Ned Vizzini had killed himself. He had jumped off a rooftop the day before and I remember thinking: if this man couldn’t make it, how the hell would I?

His depression was different from mine, though. His was clinical. Mine seems to worsen and subdue with the seasons. I’m lucky I can manage it well enough that it doesn’t consume me. But these days, the fleetingness of life does not escape my attention.

A favourite quote of mine comes from 1994’s classic cult film The Crow:“It can’t rain all the time.” The sun, though it sets early right now, will return. Hold your heads up, Victorians, and keep your loved ones close. There is no shame in taking life at your own pace, just as long as you keep going.