Winter Confuses My Brain

The extremely varying characteristics of, and experiences that come with, the winter season when comparing childhood and early adulthood make for one peculiar time of year. Even ignoring the increasingly changing expected snow times and temperatures and that we have reached the point where we can no longer predict future forecasts based on past data, winter feels like a completely different season from what I experienced for the majority of my life. Things that were fun as a child and no longer are as an adult are obviously not unique to the winter season, but the overlapping hardships, traditions, obstacles, and novelties of this period of time make me more conflicted than anything that changes throughout life. Spring? I love it; the plants begin to wake up again, it's starting to get warmer, days feel longer, and I can open my windows. I hate that wasps come back but it's all worth it for this pleasant season. Summer? I love it; I can swim, play basketball outside, and go for walks. Yeah, sunburn sucks and sometimes I sweat from being outside for longer than 5 minutes but these are the few cons of the season that I have to deal with to enjoy such a pleasant time of year. Fall? It is my favorite; my sense of fashion is revived because of layering, the leaves all turn nice warm colors, I’m no longer constantly sweating, fall flavors feel appropriate, the NBA season starts, and HALLOWEEN!! I wish I could confidently say that I love or hate the winter. Everything going on in my contemporary life points me in the direction of hating, but the engrained joys of the season keep me from being able to say this.

I remember winter being my favorite season by far from the age that I was able to conceptualize such sentiments until around the time college started. My brother and my favorite yearly activity was playing in the snow. He liked to deliberately put snow down the back of my jacket and down my neck which would result in my running inside crying, but that would only lead to my mom making me hot chocolate (not too hot) which I would sip until I was ready to go back outside. I was also raised Christian, so needless to say, Christmas was a massive contributor to my love for winter when I was younger. Though it was often in frigid conditions, some of my core memories growing up were helping my dad set up the lights outside the house followed by all four of my immediate family members decorating the tree in the living room. Not to mention, PRESENTS. I was lucky enough to have parents who were able to afford a few Christmas presents to put under the tree year after year, so that was obviously something to constantly look forward to every winter. Especially when school got out, winter was the most carefree and generally happy time in my childhood.

As I mentioned, nothing that was fun as a kid is nearly as enjoyable as an adult but the juxtaposition here is almost comical. The first sign that winter is coming for me is waking up after a fine day of breathing through your nose suddenly unable to do so. Then comes the harsh throat and congestion headache that lasts two weeks, the sudden drop in motivation to work out and just as the first snowflake hits the tallest branch of the tree in my front yard, I can practically feel my hypothalamus ceasing its production of dopamine. If I find the motivation to not only clean but also decorate my room for the holidays amongst the pileup of essays, exams, and projects that come with this time of year, I can then get a quick rush of joy from passing the colorful red and green lights in my sleeping quarters.

That’s the crazy part; why do I still get joy out of the Christmas side of things? I’m not religious anymore and I’m fully aware that it's a capitalist’s wet dream of a consumerist holiday. Really nothing should realistically be pushing me to have any positive sentiments on the winter season. Amongst everything, I can point to a weird part of my brain that has somehow remained resilient in the storm of negativity mucus. I think the years of bundling up and going to Wela’s for Christmas Eve and Aunt Kim’s for Christmas, sharing stories, hugs, and overall warming company that melts all of the ice off of the windows has engrained itself into my being and rears its beautiful head whenever the temperature drops. Come to think of it, even some newer traditions in my life have a similar effect. All of my closest friends come home from their various schools around this time as well, leading to Friendsgivings, holiday parties, and evenings consisting of everything we used to do before going off to college (with the additions of things that would have been illegal for us to do back then). Though this seems to be wrapping up like a great big box under the tree containing a new puppy with a big red bow, my experience every winter is still bitter-sweet simply put (idk maybe the dog is missing a leg or something). Even ignoring the failure to function that my sinuses experience, the winter season is often one of discontent, stress, and grayness if I had to give it a color, but the joys and traditions that have persisted at least give me something to distract me with from time to time. Generally, winter confuses my brain but what doesn’t these days?