Let me be clear from jump: I am not a cold-weather loving girly. I do not flourish in frost. I do not awaken joyfully to the dank darkness. And I have never, nor will I ever, romanticize a numb bum, fingers or toes.
I miss the beach. I miss sand. I miss sun. And when I’m on the Maryland side, that delicious summer heat hugs instead of attacks – 99-degree boob-sweat days aside, clearly.
Every year, my brain has to formally come to terms with the fact that for the next three months, I will be waking up in darkness and also ending my days in darkness. At some point in the middle of the day, allegedly, there is sunlight, but it feels more like a rumor than a lived experience.
Rain has never been my nemesis (shoutout to growing up London-style), but snow? Ice? Single-digit temperatures or worse, ones with a negative in front of them, feel like a personal attack and we’re not even there yet… but it’s coming. Oh, it’s coming!
The only break from the cold and dark is my fave holiday —Christmas. Lovin’ spendin’ time with my chosen weirdos—but that’s it; the rest is doo-doo.
Now, luckily, in the last few years, after Christmas, a friend and I would sneak away for a few days—chasing and catching sun and sand in Puerto Rico, Costa Rica, or Puerto Costa-Whatever, anywhere with a beach, heat, and guaranteed happiness. We’d spend those choice few days being the beachiest of beach bums. But alas… this year, no getaway. Sigh. My couch will have to do… but will still come in a distant third.
Years later, I’m still not used to the cold of winter. I’ll never get used to it. I’ll never stop being offended—until the day I can watch winter from the beachy-retirement dream that lives rent-free in my head. Deeper sigh.
Welcome to ‘Winter Delulu’
Can you relate? Or are you team hot cocoa, no sweaty temps, and annoying bugs? I hear that. Luv, I hate bugs too, but I’ll take swatting bugs here and there over icicle tears and boogers any bloody day.
So for all of you who need to prep for some version of Jon Snow’s winter, I present to you:
My very inaccurate survival guide to December
Rule #1: Denial is a valid coping strategy until at least December 21st.
Pretend it’s still autumn. Fake that the daylight-saving shift didn’t spiritually assault you when you woke up never asking for it. Yes, you got an extra hour to lie in bed, but by the end of the day you’re like, why the hell am I still at work working? Driving is the norm in Maryland, so you can still get away wearing lighter jackets, but I’ll chuck on a scarf so I can make it to the building without cursing before I slide past the glass doors. And when I actually see the sun mid-day, that’s when the “maybe it won’t be that bad” phase sneaks in. It will in fact be that bad.
Rule #2: Comfort food is no longer food, it is emotional infrastructure.
At this point, soups are not optional. Chili is a personality trait. Anything scalding hot becomes medicinal. My body craves heat from the inside out, and I will appease it until the spring-summer sun emerges to do the job. If a meal doesn’t warm ma’ bones, it’s not December-Winteration-appropriate.
Rule #3: You will begin dressing like survival is the objective. Because it is.
If ‘Fashion hurts,’ layering is tactical. My fuzzy socks are now survival gear. Thick hoodies are emotional armor zipped all the way up. By January, the goal is to dress like you’re taking a voyage across hostile terrain, even if that means stepping out of a car into the grocery store.
Side-Step: I’m Gen X and recall my Mum making sure my sister and I always had good undies in case of an accident. God forbid they’d discover either of her daughters decked out in some holey knickers. We kept silent, but our faces were like, “Umm, Mum, we’re bleeding, who cares?!” But just like my Mum, we’re not here for the play-play either, people! Get it together!
And now the seasonal disassociation resumes…
Rule #4: You will mentally relocate to summer.
You will think about the beach, crying, while brushing snow off your car. #Maryland. You will catch yourself sighing over fleeting summer memories when a flip-flop falls out your car retrieving said snow scraper. You will crave sunlight like it’s on the banned list. Personally, my neighbor and I used to watch old episodes of CSI Miami just to see the piercing sun. We didn’t give a double-damn about the plot. The burning sunlight. The glare. The audacity of the billowing palm trees. That was all that mattered.
Rule #5: Your sleep will become wild AF… as the kiddos say
You’ll either want to sleep constantly or not at all. There’s no middle ground. Your entire being will be thrown into confusion by the lack of normal light cues, sunrise, sunset, sun-gone. Your circadian rhythm has abandoned you, and negotiating wake-up times feels like bargaining with a toddler. Of course, you will lose.
Rule #6: Everything will cost 6500% more emotional energy.
Just leaving the house alone. You become strategic with outside visits. Your sofa and lux blanket look sexier than ever. Doing literally anything will feel heavier, not because you’re lazy, but because the season demands more from your nervous system to simply come alive. But come alive you must for three more months minimum. #RandomAssMarylandWeather.
Rule #7: You will romanticize spring like “she’s always been that girl”.
Knowing spring can continue the cold and bring rain, you will still be delulu. By mid-December, you’re already dreaming of longer days. By January, you’re firm in your delulu about your upcoming transformation. You start talking about “when the weather changes” this and that like it’s a spiritual event you’re itching to touch and taste.
Permission to despise winter, granted
Finally, Rule #8: And don’t let anyone poo-poo your pity-party. You’re allowed to not love this season.
- You’re allowed to miss the sun.
- You’re allowed to side-eye the cold.
- You’re allowed to feel homesick for warmth, even if your home isn’t at, or near, any beach.
It’s OK that not all of us move happily in winter. Some of us (aka me) have to endure it with rampant humor, carbs, layered clothing, strong opinions, and hella cussing!
