There are two things I will never not love, no matter how much you side-eye me about them. The first: flying. I’ve had my share of bad flights – being prohibited from getting on a plane because the word Iran scared the lady at Northwest too much; screaming children, delayed flights, being stuck on the runway. But I will never get over (or at least I hope I will never get over) the thrill I get of going somewhere new, somewhere different.
Snowglobe snow. I love the snow. It’s pretty. If it’s going to be cold anyway it might as well be snowing. It’s weather appropriate. It’s seasonally appropriate. And no matter how much I hate digging my car out of it, or how much I hate that suddenly it makes every Indiana driver act like they’re driving on the lava level of MarioKart, I still love it.
It’s also quiet. It dampens everything, makes everything soft and soothing and still. My brain these days is not quiet or still. The few brief moments of peace I’ve had has been when it’s been snowing. Something about it helps me slow down, quiet the parts of my brain that overthink everything. All my worries of jobs and money and weight and keeping this damn cat alive, and finally getting the apartminium clean, and being the last and only single person on the planet, and food, and and and. For a brief period they disappear.
One of the benefits of having dealt with depression for so long is I can see the symptoms manifesting. Just like I know I’m getting sick when my ears start hurting, I know I’m slipping when I see myself get grummpier. I can see the way my internal focus shifts. Everything is terrible and nothing is okay. And the problem is I can see these things happening. I know what’s happening. I know where my brain is headed, but I can’t stop it. I use my SAD lamp, I drink more water, I work out, I’m even eating cleaner. And it works. For awhile. And then I’m right back down. And I don’t know which is worse; having it sneak up on me or seeing it come for me and knowing I’ll lose.
I know Indiana is over the cold, but I could use a good snow fall; a few more moments of silence.