I hate winter

I am bitter

“So, you see, while some perceive winter as a festive time when their worlds are blanketed by the purity of snow, others feel that they are being suffocated by a literally colorless existence.”

- Jessica Blaszczak, 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Seasonal Affective Disorder

I was born in the middle of summer. My mom told me I cried until the moment they placed me beneath the warm light to clean me off. As soon as the brightness hit my skin, I settled. Content once again as if my body already knew what it needed.

When I was still an infant, they took a trip to the British Virgin Islands. She put me in a tiny sunhat and sat me in the sand, and I was, according to her, the happiest baby she’d ever seen. All it took was warm air on my skin. That’s it, that’s always been it.

So it’s no surprise that my body recoils at winter. My soul has been tethered to warmth since the moment I arrived. Summer asks nothing of you. Drink a tall glass of water, sit on the front porch, let the heat press into you and you’re doing life correctly.

Winter, on the other hand, demands performance. We must celebrate, be grateful, be cheerful, be full of joy. And I am anything but. I want to curl into my bed and disappear. I want to erase every good habit I painstakingly built throughout the year. Wipe the slate clean and just leave me alone.

The holidays are always a letdown because the expectations are unbearable. That’s why Christmas drifts farther and farther from what it once felt like each year a little more distant, a little less magic. Maybe I sound bitter but that’s because I am.

I miss the sun and the warm solid earth beneath my feet. Maybe I’d love the holidays if I lived by the ocean, if Christmas Eve meant suntanning instead of small talk. If only I could feel vitamin D soak into my skin and bring me back to life.I lose myself every winter and finding my way back to myself is an excruciating process.