Winter is here. I can feel it. The light is gone. The nights are getting colder. And so am I.
Yesterday, I woke up with an inexplicable sense of complete and total emptiness and all-encompassing apathy. I walked through my routine, wondering why am I doing any of it. There was no sense in anything. I felt old and tired the entire day.
Usually, when I feel this way, there is a pretty damn good reason. But this time I couldn’t find it. When I consulted with the inner child, she was as clueless as I was.
“Is it this?” No. “Is it that?” No. “Then what is it?” Silence.
By the evening, I was near tears, but since there was still no reason, the tears wouldn’t come.
I took out Diamond for her evening walk. And just as I was heading back home, it hit me like a brick to my face.
It’s winter. I’m under-exposed to sunlight as it is already pitch black when I go back home from work. It’s getting dark, gray, cold and rainy. Even my hoodie fails to heat me up. And the weather will only be getting worse.
I forgot how much the weather affects me and I am reminded again and again, every year, of how much I hate the cold.
The tears came again, but I was too cold to cry. So my boyfriend hugged me for a while.
“It’s not that cold,” he said, then quickly retracted the statement when he felt my hands which had turned to ice.
“It’s gonna get colder, you know?” He said.
“That doesn’t exactly comfort me,” I rebutted with a frown.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” He said. Yet another unnecessary statement.
“I KNOW! That’s what makes me feel so miserable,” I said with mounting frustration.
My boyfriend can’t possibly understand. He is not as sensitive to the cold as I am. And it’s not even the physical effect of winter and dropping temperatures that affect me. For me, it’s a psychological blow. The lack of light, the lack of heat, the lack of a dry midday breeze, subsequent lack of inspiration – it’s all so depressing and emotionally draining.
“I’m not the only one, you know?” I told my boyfriend. “My therapist told me that some people do suffer from seasonal depression due to lack of sunlight. Some have it so bad that they go as far as having some sort of artificial sunlight lamp installed in their house, and they lie under it for a couple of hours, every day, throughout winter. Otherwise, their depression just consumes them.”
For me, it’s not just that. The cold doesn’t only make me feel cold, but it also makes my myotonia worse than it already is. Now, my hands get paralyzed not only when I strain them, but with even the slightest movement. If I rummage around my purse for my keys, my fingers curl up and refuse to open. So even if I do manage to find my keys under the piles of garbage I keep in my purse, I can’t fish them out, because my hand won’t respond. The weather has made my fingers ice cold and insufferably stubborn.
“You just have to find things to do that make you happy,” my boyfriend suggested.
“Playing guitar,” I responded. “Playing guitar makes me very happy.”
The problem is that my fingers need to cooperate if I’m to bang out some tunes. So far, the temperature indoors is still somewhat ok. So last night, my boyfriend and I hit a couple of bowls, hoovered a large pizza, and rehearsed some songs.
However, it will no doubt get colder and the lack of insulation in our apartment will require some powerful heating system if I am planning on playing some more. And I am.
Peace, love and frost