Dear Digital Diary

Dear Digital Diary,

Winter and I are not getting along, but I think we can make it work.

It’s currently winter in Maine. If you’ve never been to Maine or never felt winter, it sort of feels like when the sun sets on a Sunday. You have work the next day at a job that makes you go brainless in an office where the walls are gray. Every day of winter in Maine brings the essence of the Sunday scaries, mixed with some soggy slush, a bad case of the flu, and skin so dry you worry your face will crumble to dust.

I’ve decided winter is the long-distance, low-commitment, love-bomber boyfriend. One day, the temperature will hover just above freezing, and it’ll be sunny out. You smile again, you’ve got that usually unattainable zest for life, and it genuinely feels like summer. Of course, it’s the bare minimum, but it happens once in a blue moon, so everything’s great. Then the next day, it’s frigidly cold, spewing out hours of snow and freezing rain, and then you slide into a telephone pole while driving as carefully as you can.

Naturally, I have a love/hate relationship with the season. I loved it as a kid, and then I grew up where life feels horrid, so the weather is supposed to compensate. I need warmth now, sunshine, a sprinkle of beach sand, and, honestly, an endless supply of margaritas. But since I cannot have that, here’s how winter and I create healthy boundaries of distance while also coexisting.

1. I’m staying off of the media for most of the day.

I’m high-key proud of myself for this one. I usually spend less than four hours on my phone as of twelve days ago. The media only offered a glimpse into the outside world, where winter feels like quarantine and other people’s warm-weather vacations are Disneyland. It’s not healthy, and I find myself wasting the day and letting it drag on. In the past, I’ve found it makes the winter months feel like eight full years.

2. I’m tapping back into old hobbies that I set down in the summer.

In the summer, there are many outdoor things to do. I live by the beach, so I usually wind up there. I surf, I swim, I lie in the sun. If not that, I’ll go on a walk, on a drive to Portsmouth, or I’ll make a salad and eat it outside. But winter is the hibernation season. That doesn’t mean I sleep for eons, but I do things that I usually wouldn’t do in the summer months. This means reading in front of a fire, painting, writing, going to the movies when it’s crappy out, or working out. I’ve read four books in the past two weeks, and I probably read three books for the three months of last year’s summer.

3. I make plans.

I’m usually super bad about this. I’m independent and type B – so badly that I think it’s chronic and may cause me to lose years off my life. But I’ve found that having friends to hang around with makes winter less dreary. And not only social obligations, but I plan out work things and trips I’ll take. In that case, it’s something to look forward to. In February, I’ve penciled in the days that I’ll submit papers and reviews, and journals. In May, I might travel to Honduras to visit some college friends.

4. I listen to music that makes it feel like summer.

It’s sometimes a little whimsical to lie to yourself. Recently, among my laundry list of boy rap and songs from 2016, I’ve been listening to playlists that I’d play at the beach, or when I lived in the South when it was actually nice and warm in February, or what I’d play when my family drives to the lake in New Hampshire. If you don’t have such playlists, I’ve got you. (Refer back to #2, making Spotify playlists is one of my hobbies.)

The Weather’s Getting Warmer (it’s not but a girl can dream)

Jamz (the playlist I play in my car in June)

Smokin A Joint In A Beat-up Bronco (the essence of chill)

My Job Is Just BEACH (just like Ken said)

Nature Valley Granola Bars (my crunchy Maine playlist for the outdoors)

The thing that’s most important about all of this is that winter is just a season of the year, and a small fraction of life. Feeling miserable doesn’t mean that everything’s miserable; it just means that things might have to adjust slightly to feel more comfortable. And that’s okay.

We’re in this together.

Unless where you live is sunny, and if so, I’d love for you to mail me a pocket of sunshine ASAP. Thank you.