I'm going to write about this and then try to forget it. Like that'll happen. But I don't want to go on and on all fall/winter/chilly spring about how much I hate cold weather, so I'll do it now and maybe get it out of my system.
I hate cold weather. I hate wearing coats. I hate wearing hats. I hate running to the car, shivering and swearing, before the sun comes up. I hate not seeing the sun before I go to work and only seeing it for an hour and a half after I leave work. I hate having to turn on the heat in the house and pay the ridiculous amounts the gas company will charge this winter (even though we keep the temperature around 66 degrees). I hate having to wear sweatshirt, t-shirt, sweatpants and heavy socks in the house, sometimes having to wrap up in a blanket to keep from freezing.
Poor Tom is already wearing a hat (that I knit) while we're home, and it's not that cold yet. He really feels the cold, while I'm always (almost) too warm. One would think that a post-menopausal woman would be happy with cooler temperatures. Not so in my case.
As the days get shorter, I can feel that ol' melancholia stealing over me, stealing my energy (what energy that I have), my motivation, my life. By December or January I'm ready to hibernate. I don't want to get out of bed. I hate wishing my life away, waiting for warm weather again. I feel like I'm just enduring six or more months of the year, waiting to feel alive again.
Thank goodness for trips to Florida to see my daughter and her family. Not only do I get a good dose of being MomMom (or Nanamarana, as last January), I get a dose of sunshine and warmth. Green grass, flowers blooming, trees with actual green leaves on them. Life. Sun. It keeps me from wasting away inside while waiting for warm weather at home. Even if it gets down into the low 30s at night while I'm there, I know that it won't last long, and even if I miss the nice, warm days, I know that they'll come back quickly, unlike in the mid-Atlantic states where it's winter for six months.
Thank God I have an understanding husband. It bothers him that I sleep so much, even in the warm weather, but that's my natural rhythm. Always has been, since I was born. I'm not finding that I need less sleep as I get older; for me, it's the opposite.
I've been diagnosed with Chronic Depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Depression is so much worse in the cold times of the year, but increasing my antidepressant turns me into a zombie, so I just have to endure. I don't want to risk changing antidepressants; I don't have six months to live in bed while waiting for one to get out of my system and another to get in, then finding that it doesn't work well, and having to go through it again.
I will not miss the seasons. There are only two seasons I want to have: summer and almost-summer. If it never got colder than 60 degrees, I'd be a happy camper. I have to force myself to see the color changes in the leaves; I can acknowledge their beauty only after I've forced myself to notice that they're no longer green. Snow is beautiful when it's falling, but it soon gets grubby, and living on the side of a mountain isn't the best place to be in an ice or snow storm. Working on the other side of a mountain, where the roads are maintained by two states, one of which (and it changes) is always more on-the-ball than the other, is a royal pain when the roads are slippery. Tom's site never closes, no matter how bad the weather, and being the maintenance manager, he has to go in even if there's a foot of ice on the road (a slight exhaggeration). I work for the city schools, in a city where school is rarely closed due to inclement weather and only once in a while opens late. Doesn't matter. We leave home at 6 each morning, and if we hear that school has been cancelled or will open late, no matter. I'm on the way at the regular time anyway. The weather at home or on the mountain may be treacherous, but we chose to live where we do, so we have to deal with it.
I'll just have to endure. I'll have happy times; I won't mope around for the next six months. But I will complain about the cold weather, the short days, no warm sun. It's my nature. Again, thank God that Tom feels the same way about cold weather and wants to move south when we retire.
South, as in South Florida, where there's no (or maybe a tiny bit, once in 25 years) frost, where there's almost always sun (HOT sun), where most places are air conditioned so there's somewhere cool to go when it's too hot in the sun. Where we can grow tropical plants outside, not in pots that have to be dragged out in the spring and back inside in the winter where the poor things just endure until spring. Where we can see my grandkids and Tom's daughter (who was smart and moved to Ft. Lauderdale when she was 18). Where there's a beach within an hour's drive east or west.
Where maybe I can defeat this cold-weather melancholy and feel alive year-round.