Remember what I said as summer was turning to fall? Allow me. Ahem:
"I think there is something to be said for being in a happy place in your life. Namely, that you don't long for other seasons. You can walk gracefully into a new season without worrying if you savored every last drop of the one you're walking out of. As my dad would say, that's clean living.I am so full of shit sometimes.
I totally savored fall, drank my weight in hot apple cider, wore holes in all my favorite tights, took Henley on epic city sidewalk journeys, kicked my way through piles of crunchy leaves like I was in a goddamn Nora Ephron movie. And I still long for it. Simply because it's not winter.
This winter has taught me that sometimes it doesn't matter what's going on in your life. Sometimes the weather gets a girl down. Sometimes relentless cold and gray and complete sun-deprivation take a toll on even the happiest of campers. It has nothing to do with longing for other times. It has everything to do with the fact that I can't feel my feet. Or my face. Or, at times, my fucking soul. (Ellen, that was for you.)
For real though, something happened this winter that made me feel like I just. could. not. get. warm. Physically or emotionally. I got a little lost. I got a little cranky. I lost sight of the positive, the spring, the forest for the trees. I let the wind and the cold and the salt and the gray drag me down. It's been tough going, and the people who've surrounded me during the womp-womps deserve a medal or at least an adult beverage of their choosing. Seriously, props, guys. Wompy Bobbi is a total drag.
My mantra for the rest of the season is:
Because it's gotta come sometime, right? Because even if right now I don't feel as self-evolved as Albert Camus, there indeed lies within each of us an invincible summer, even in the worst of winters. The trick, I think, to surviving Polar Vortexes both ecological and proverbial is to surround yourself with people who see it in you always, despite your frozen exterior.