Seasonal

Seasons affect me. During spring, I am always searching for new beginnings--I either become tremendously motivated or extremely burnt out and ready to move on to my next great adventure. Summer turns me into a sloth. Autumn refreshes me, and I thrive flirtatiously in its chill and its changes. Winter, however, is for tears and stuffy noses and lethargy and painful nostalgia. Recently, I just don't do winter well. And it's becoming quite apparant to me within these past few days that winter is fully here.

I don't readily welcome this winter bitterness. Snow I accept, but the wind and the harsh salt cracking under my boots are not sensory experiences I miss during spring's rains, summer's swelter, and autumn's crispness. The few weeks that separate summer from fall, that send brief gusts of chill just to let you know that cold is coming soon--that is my favorite time of year. Feeling warmth still kiss your cheekbones, but bundling under a light jacket when September breezes brush past. Iced tea and lemonade are suddenly exchanged for toasty spiced chais. I love watching sunny yellow hues begin to infect late-summer leaves, and seeing people on the street pull out their year's first cozy sweaters.

dear, sweet early-autumn briskness.

By this time every year, without fail, I begin to regret living in a northern region. I truly can't stand Pittsburgh winters; they linger until March, leaving sooty brown slush and chapped skin. Having four seasons is important to me, but our winters just outstay their welcome (if ever welcomed to begin with). This year, I fear, will be even worse than winters past; I've always succumbed to seasonal depression in some form--usually mild and brief--but having already been fighting the demons for 8 months, I'm afraid my snowy sadness might drag me down more than I can tolerate.

While I hope this isn't the case, I've promised myself that I will do everything in my powers to keep myself smiling even if the depression hits hard.

For a moment today, I had a lonely plummeting sensation and thought to myself, "Oh no, here it fucking comes." But I stopped the feeling in it's tracks by immediately altering my walking course to make a pit stop in a 7-11 and treating myself to the warmest, sweetest toffee cappuccino that $1.07 can buy. I took my steaming cup to the coziest nook of the loveliest room in the student union, and--even though I had much more important and productive (but boring and saddening and stressful) things to do--cuddled up in a chair and read for an hour.

This was exactly the distraction I needed and I was proud of myself for knowing that and acting upon it rather than pushing my emotions aside to make room for stressful obligations. Sometimes you just need some time for the feeling to pass. And sitting in that tapestry chair, sipping coffee and reading Lolita allowed precisely that. Time. Time for pleasure to seep in and give the warm happy feeling that I get during those first few weeks of transition from summer to fall.

Winter, I'm trying to be prepared for you this year. I'd ask you to go easy on me, but I know you won't, because you never do. But I've realized what I need, and knowledge is power.

pittsburgh winter, i'll conquer you yet.