We are back in Baltimore and the real feel has been closer to ten degrees than I would like. How utterly tragic. On my first day of classes, I donned two layers of pants and three layers of tops and treated my walk to Gilman like a treacherous journey (it was, in fact, treacherous). I spent the rest of the day in bed, under every single blanket I own, with my heater blasting.
In the winter months on campus, I find myself increasingly drawn to winter security blankets: I spend all of my free time in my dorm room, I swap cooking for frozen meals from CharMar and I check the weather report obsessively, planning any social outings around the temperature. I idolize hibernation: how wonderful it would be to be a brown bear, sleeping through the Januarys and Februarys, saving myself for the spring.
As much as my seasonally depressed tendencies would like me to fall into the slumber of the hibernators, I have been trying my hardest to show myself kindness this winter by forcing myself into the cold. I am doing my best not to put my life on pause just because the sun sets at 4:30, no matter how uncomfortable that may feel.
A lot of surviving winter for me has been learning how to be a little bit uncomfortable at all times. Lately, that means waking up an hour and a half before class so that I can maximize the sunlight I receive during the day and have time to sit in front of my window or my seasonal depression lightbox, which I thought was a gimmick. Unfortunately, it works. By giving myself more hours in the day, I feel less guilty going to bed earlier, when the quick darkness begs me to knock out.
I have also been bundling up! I grew up perpetually annoyed at my mother for force-feeding me the concept of dressing in layers, of never forgetting a hat and mittens before leaving the house, but I have been finding that the more I dress for mild Baltimore winters like I am exploring the North Pole, the more tolerable daily walks and outings have become. My win of this week was trekking to the nearby farmer’s market and staying long enough to come back with a satisfying haul of pears, radishes, sourdough bread and warm empanadas (a breakfast reward for being so brave and leaving the dorm).
As tempted as I have been to cancel all of my plans for a lovely day of rotting under my roommate’s heated blanket, I have been forcing myself to be just as social as I might be in the spring or summer: although the first couple steps out of my door might feel gruesome, I always feel warm once I’m out and about surrounded by the people I love. We are surviving this season together!
Leaving my winter security blankets behind is not only about pushing myself but also about showing myself grace. So. Much. Grace. I have always been intrigued by the Danish concept of “hygge,”, which seems to refer to the state and practice of being cozy and warm. Winter is a time to be gentle with myself, to adjust my expectations of productivity, to prioritize coziness because I know that if I am kind to myself, the daily tasks I want to achieve will seem easier. Though I know I cannot hibernate, I can certainly borrow the concepts of a safe and comforting winter state from brown bears.
Although I am a self-proclaimed winter hater, I have found that being super intentional about reminding myself what makes the season beautiful allows me to tolerate it. The clean light of early mornings. The smoky smell of winter air. Seasonal fruits and vegetables. Dogs in coats. My striped hat and ridiculously large earmuffs. Though I know we all feel the aesthetic lull after the holiday season, I often forget that I am still allowed to indulge in ice skating and hot chocolate sipping and cookie-baking. Winter may not be my season, but there is always something to find joy in once you tuck away the security blankets.
Hailey Finkelstein is a sophomore from Ardsley, NY studying Medicine, Science and the Humanities. Her column shares miscellaneous prose on current issues, the collective Hopkins experience and growing up with a pen in hand.
