Seasonal Attitude Disorder
It’s usually sometime in January when we start hearing stories in the news about Seasonal Affective Disorder. (Apparently January 18th was the most depressing day of the year for 2010.) We read articles about light therapy. And we collectively grumble about the long stretch of winter in front of us.
I am of a different ilk. Call me crazy, but I like the dormancy of January. I’m not sad that the holidays are behind me. Certainly there’s a happy anticipation that they bring about. But untold amounts of work come along for the ride. January, conversely, is a low maintenance month. I don’t love the bitter cold or cabin fever. But I do love seeing white space on my calendar and hot chocolate in my hand. It’s not all bad.
It’s February, on the other hand, that makes me cranky. It swoops in with its 28 days, acting harmless and innocent. It teases us with the preposterous idea that spring might show up early if an oversized rodent doesn’t run into a hole. Then it tries to woo us with roses and chocolates. But there’s always one thing I want in February that it will never have to offer me:
Sandals.
I’ll even extend the list to include sundresses, sunglasses, baseball, daffodils, blooming Bradford Pear trees, outdoor café tables, and the smell of freshly cut grass. I’d take any of them. But February always leaves me hanging. One grey day after another I check weather.com with hope and anticipation, only to find disappointment and a dismal forecast.
For me, February requires a major attitude adjustment.
So imagine my delight last week when we got to close the book on February. Truthfully, Monday didn’t act that much differently from Sunday. Still grey. Still cold. Still filled with more darkness than daylight. But something felt different. Maybe it was because during my visit to my parents’ house over the weekend (where spring arrives about three weeks earlier than it does here) bulbs are already popping up. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to hear buzz about March Madness and I can envision myself winning the office pool (which actually happened once). Maybe it’s because I have a new challenge in front of me, distracting me from the last few days of winter. Maybe it’s because 40 degrees, while still chilly, feels positively balmy after weeks of highs in the teens and twenties. Or maybe it’s because I know that by the time this month ends the lion will have gone and the lamb will be here.
It’s probably a combination of those things.
But for all of my complaining about February (the shortest never-ending month), I need it. Without February, March – and better yet April – wouldn’t be so glorious. Spring, and the renaissance it brings, is brilliant on its own. But its greatest triumph is that it delivers us from the doldrums that preceded it. It is this contrast – not just flowers and sunshine – that moves me.
I’ve heard many many people sing the praises of living in places like San Diego and Miami. They brag about wearing shorts and flip flops in January. They have green grass and waving palm trees year round. They don’t have to suffer through the dead of winter or the dog days of summer that the Midwest so lovingly doles out. But such climates don’t come without a cost: They don’t have seasons.
The first day of spring; the first time your ankles go bare; the first daffodil you see; the first day you wear short sleeves; the first time you pull out your grill; the first day that you turn off your furnace; the first day the season really arrives can never feel truly, overwhelmingly perfect if it’s no different than the day that came before it. It is change that I need, as much as anything else. The same is true of sweaters and cider and turning leaves in the fall. Only after summer has lingered into September and long overstayed its welcome can I be wholly invigorated by the first chilly morning that makes me reach for a fleece.
Yes. It’s change that I need.
We are barely a full week into March, and yet I’m feeling better. I feel lighter and happier. I feel excited and optimistic. I feel eager and capable. I’ll go ahead and say it… I have a spring in my step!