It’s no secret that New York Winters are harsh. The snow that turns into giant piles of cold dirt that you have to climb over, the parking and narrow streets somehow getting worse and the cold basically trapping you in your house is enough to have you dreaming of summer. Living in Queens my whole life has made me used to these winters, but since it’s the coldest winter we’ve had since I was 5, it took me for a whirlwind. Every winter I fight that seasonal depression off like my life depends on it. I try to take on new hobbies, establish routines, find joy in the smallest things, just enough to get me to spring. This year, I promised myself I would actually enjoy my winter instead of just surviving through it.
I thought after December and early January that I had gotten through the worst part of winter, but I seemed to forget that January and February are the real winter. I celebrated way too early. The second the holiday lights came down and the after-finals relief wore off, it hit me like a truck.
The cold is my number one enemy. It’s the kind of cold that you can feel in your bones and it makes getting out of bed feel like an Olympic sport. The sun sets before I even get home from school. The excitement of a new semester fades fast, and now it’s just long weeks, assignments piling up and the realization that spring break is not actually “just around the corner.”
And I am constantly exhausted. It doesn’t matter if I get 12 hours of sleep, 8 hours of sleep or 3 hours of sleep. I wake up tired. I go to class tired. I come home tired. My body feels like it’s running on low battery mode 24/7. I’m running on fumes, doing the bare minimum, telling myself I’ll be more productive tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and I feel the exact same.
It’s frustrating because I want to stay positive. I promised myself I would enjoy this winter. I don’t want to be bedridden every time the temperature dips below freezing. I don’t want to count down the days until April like that’s the only thing keeping me going. But it’s hard to enjoy something that physically makes you want to hibernate.
What I’m realizing though is that maybe enjoying winter doesn’t mean loving it every second of the day. Maybe it doesn’t mean waking up at 7 a.m. to journal and go on early morning walks. Maybe it just means being honest about the slump instead of pretending I’m immune to it.
January and February feel slow, heavy and dark. And I’m allowed to feel a little slower too. If the trees can be bare and the sun can go down in the middle of the day, I don’t have to work at full speed either.
So instead of fighting it like I do every year, I’m trying to work with it. I’m letting myself rest without feeling like I’m being lazy. I’m accepting that some days “bare minimum” is still enough. I’m finding small things to look forward to like a warm shower after class, spending time inside with my family, and talking to my boyfriend and best friends on FaceTime.
Winter is definitely not my favorite season and maybe it never will be. It might still test me every single year. But actually enjoying it doesnt have to be about turning it into something it’s not. It can be about giving myself grace while I move through it tired, bundled up and counting down to the first warm day of the year, knowing I’ll get there like I always do.