it is cold. it’s so unwelcoming and unyielding. everything is dead and leafless. i don’t want to be outside at all. this misery is a good thing, though, because last year, the transition into winter was the only thing that made sense. the stillness and the sting were welcome escapes against how bleak the environment looked. the landslides and crushed houses seemed more at home in the winter. the massive scale of destruction wasn’t so daunting next to all the other death that naturally arrives with this season. i spent the entire winter outside, processing what i had seen. i remember being concerned how the pain of winter was the only thing that felt correct.

this year i am back in the mindset of “no it’s too cold, i’m staying in my warm house and eating a lot”. 

the first year of adjusting to an ecological catastrophe felt like it was never going to end. physically, it created a new normal. i assumed that emotionally and psychologically it would as well, and that i may be stuck in this longing for winter forever. the spring that followed felt so uncomfortable and i disassociated through most of it. i didn’t want green around me. i didn’t want life to carry on like nothing happened. i wanted my surroundings to match what was happening inside of me.

looking forward to winter’s end before it even fully begins feels like i could be moving on from what tormented me all year. i’m really curious how spring will feel.