Wintering

Or: The Difficult Art of Slowing Down

At this time of year, my body tends to become depressed and grouchy. I feel the tension in my muscles begging to be released, my eyelids get heavier earlier and earlier in the day, it’s more and more difficult to dig myself out of my blanket burrow in order to get out of the house in the mornings. Pair this with my yearly existential guilt and dread around getting older, alongside yet another holiday season where my confusing and often aggressive feelings about my family simmer up into the forefront of my cortex. This is often the worst time to be around me all year.

Welcome Winter, I guess. Ho Ho Ho.

This is the part where I try and run, or hide, from everyone because I do not like burdening the people I am close with to my weepy, angry, and miserable self. This time of year I tend to feel more sensitive towards things, or get more irritable at inconsequential tasks, but really I just get weepy and tired for no reason (ok, yes, there IS a reason, but I worry that the thing I am depressed about will quickly become an eye-rolling irritation towards the people who live with me all the time).

Growing up, I was tasked with Oldest Daughter Energy, whereas I had to be stoic (or at least seem like it) in the face of chaos or conflict. Divorced parents, family drama, work stuff, and the usual bullshit wrapped among the cavalcade of a dreadful economic and social environment. I’m not mad at anyone for inadvertently putting me though that, nor do I necessarily blame any of my family members (I mean, a lot of that is generational trauma) I’m just beginning - in therapy - to recognize a lot of the stuff that I thought was “fine” was actually pretty fucked and I just want it to be recognized, I guess.

Anywho, I’m rambling. Sorry. Back to my point.

Winter and the holidays are a not so great time to be around me, and I know that, so I end up hiding from everyone I love so I don’t accidentally start a fight or an argument. I’m currently sitting in my studio - alone. Trying to enjoy the peace and solitude, but every time I try to unwind my body and brain start to panic. I get shaky, and my thoughts tumble around like greyhounds on a track. I’ve been trying to write a movie script - something I’ve thought about trying out but never gave myself permission to do - and I can’t seem to get into the mindset of my characters nor that blissful flow state that writing gives me. I’m frustrated as hell. I have all the pieces in place, I carved time for myself today to do this, why can’t I just relax? Why can’t my brain just be happy and slow down? Why am I such a fuckup at this??

I am not fine. I don’t know if I will ever BE fine. That frightens me.

I just want my body and brain to slow down and give itself grace without feeling guilty. We used to do this often, as humans, before capitalism, before current civilization, we used to Winter like all the other animals. We canned, pickled, chopped wood, carried water, but mostly just rested; snowbound in our homes until the spring started to come. I often feel like that meme from “I Think You Should Leave” whenever I start going off anarchist style about capitalism. Screaming into the internet about how awful everything is:

I will spare you the rest of my diatribe, but the feelings ring true. Unfortunately for most of us, we still need to participate in capitalism. So even though I still have to work, I am trying to find ways to combat my dread and despair this winter.

(Did you think I wasn’t going to try and find a silver lining in my darkness? Come on now, folks you’ve been here long enough to know I am nothing but annoyingly optimistic. The thickest snowstorm against the bluest sky. The stupid fucking sun peeking behind a tornado of shit. I can’t help it. I can’t. I don’t know why.)

I am making an attempt to practice a few things, Wintering, and serene defiance.

Wintering - the art of slowing down during periods of difficulty. I am refusing to drown in the cold sea of my depression and anxiety this season. I am attempting to mindfully retreat into myself and give my soul a preverbal heavy blanket and a hot drink. A lot of this is going to be telling my anxiety to fuck itself and it’s okay to rest. Laundry doesn’t need to be done right now, fuck the dishes someone else can do them, nobody will be upset at you if you need to take a nap for an hour, or just be alone for a while. When my mind goes a million miles an hour, I feel the guilt seeping in like wet snow down my boots, then I tumble into burnout (or freak out, or a mental breakdown or whatever it is you want to call it). This season, I’m going to make my best attempt at not doing that. Which means, I am going to show up to events less, stay home more, work in the studio more, and have the people I love the most help support me by letting them in. No matter how hard that’s going to be (and trust me, even WRITING that out made my inner dialogue scream noncoherently - I feel like I’m going to let everyone down if I do it. Or people are going to be furious at me for telling them how bad I feel about nothing in particular).

Serene Defiance - I’ve been low-key practicing this for a while in my own small ways. Rules are meant to be broken (or at least tested and questioned) and I have always been one to “go until apprehended” (my mom’s words). When others have asked me over the last two years why I don’t seem bothered by today’s political and cultural climate, I smile and say “We can do whatever we want. There are no rules.” Your own personal mileage may vary, but I often like to push the envelope. I try to be the person who gives kindness without reservation, the goal is to be loved by all yet bound by none (‘none’ in this case, is the claws of our increasingly disgusting status quo). This season, I want to continue practicing shrugging my shoulders and saying “why not?” with a wink and a nod to anyone who asks me why I am doing what I do. If that means I’m going to take an hour writing my script at work and letting my two emails pile up, or that means I am going to eat that extra slice of cake after dinner, or going to sit and read a book and not worry about wearing the same pair of pants three times a week so be it. There are no rules here. Everything is arbitrary.

Hopefully, with these two ideals in place, I can make the holiday and the winter seasons more bearable for everyone around me, and also myself. I hope my brain doesn’t try and destroy me and the people I love this year. I hope to last long enough to see the first blades of green grass peeking out of the snow laden ground the next time I snowshoe. I’m going to make it through the last of this year, if it kills me.

Here’s to a fallow season, everyone. I hope the darkness holds you as gently as the light this year. ❤️