Well, it’s almost that time of year again. The time when we are bombarded with ads telling us that Summer is Coming, and if we are to shed those “winter pounds” we have to get started yesterday. As a mom to three boys in my 39th year, those pounds seem to hang on a little tighter each spring. Not to mention the aches and pains that have taken up residence in the last several months (is doom-scrolling arthritis a thing?)
With every spring I realize a little more just what my winter pounds are made of. I hope Tim O’Brien will forgive me for going a little “The Things They Carried” here, but the truth is I carry a lot more than extra body weight every winter. And this winter is certainly no exception, amiright?
This winter has been the longest, coldest, darkest, and loneliest of my life. And that is saying a lot considering I have lived in both Vail and Chicago —and it’s only February. “Darkness” of winter has taken on a new meaning with the coronavirus. In a normal winter I tend to hibernate, living more than half the time in pajamas and venturing outdoors only when necessary.
This takes a tole on my mental well-being every year, as I am someone who thrives on connecting with nature and the feel of sunshine and fresh air. As the season progresses I spiral slowly downward, becoming more at home with being at home and not realizing how unhappy doing nothing is making me.
But that’s never how the season starts; I begin the winter season in high holiday spirits, Christmas shopping and decorating and planning get togethers. I always think I’m prepared for the “holiday hangover” that follows New Years eve, when nothing is scheduled for the next several months and the only thing on the horizon is a sunset that comes too early.
Then as January and February settle in, so does my depression. The less I do the heavier it feels. It can be so hard to pull yourself out as you sink deeper. And this year it’s deep. I haven’t seen my parents since we moved to Cincinnati several months ago. I’ve seen my in-laws only in brief interactions. The tense political climate and uncertainty around the pandemic has caused arguments with loved ones— I’ve noticed this happening to so many.
My kids are struggling to make friends at their new school since they can’t really be close to anyone (although I must say that I am SO happy they at least are in school and am super impressed with how great the district is doing to keep everything moving smoothly). The guilt I feel over moving my kids from all of their friends and a school they loved is immense.
My husband and I are doing good — considering we are always a room away from each other (we even went on our first date in about year the other week). So yes, it’s already been a long, cold, dark winter, and I am definitely carrying some extra weight. But the heaviest weight is not the physical; it’s the mental, emotional, metaphorically overwhelming pounds of guilt, sadness, loneliness, and fear that the “winter of our discontent” might not eventually melt into spring.
Hope can be hard to find in times like these, but I’ve made the recent decision to try to search for it where it can be found, for my own well-being and to be a better parent. It’s easy to see things in the moment as awful and forget that good things are also around us and waiting for us to acknowledge them. I try to find joy in my kids, and have faith that they will find their place and make it through the pandemic a little wiser and more adaptive.
I am grateful for my health and the health of my family. I can not stress that enough; the fear I felt about losing a loved one has begun to subside as vaccine rolls out. I try to remember how much I love my new home and feel gratitude to be in a position where we were not significantly impacted in the last year.
Although we miss our old friends, we have made some new amazing friends. There have been babies born and weddings planned. I look forward to summer and the warmth it brings. Spring will show new growth and the return of life. There is a light on the horizon again; light of the promises of an end to the pandemic. It will take time to shed the weight of the last year, but the more hope we can maintain the lighter that weight will be.
StigMama 