Embrace the Season You’re In

Every year, as I thrive through the colder months, I have to ask myself: Do I love winter, or do I have depression? 

Is it weird that I come alive during autumn when NATURE IS LITERALLY DYING? Or, does it make total sense because I’m depressed? 

September 22nd through March 20th IS MY TIME TO SHINE. I enjoy spring too,  I’m not a total monster. Summer is just not a great time for me. After many years of hating and hiding my body mixed with humidity and mosquitoes and ticks and sunburns… it’s just a no for me, dog. 

This summer in New England has been the WORST OF ALL. Memorial Day was rainy and cold, followed by extreme heat, followed by a rainy and cold Fourth of July, and more extreme heat. I was spending a lot of time fighting against the elements, wishing it was warmer/colder/drier, etc. I was miserable and I had to change my attitude.

I called upon one of my favorite pieces of happiness advice from the Danish, get outside no matter the season, and dress appropriately for the weather. I took that rule to heart this past winter and doubled up my leggings and wore a sherpa jacket underneath my down coat when I took my dog to the park. We played in the snow for hours and it was all fine because I was warm! So maybe the key to enjoying summer was removing some layers and embracing the outside. 

I know that sounds really simple. Yet you’re dealing with someone who once fought with her dad for wearing sweatpants in the summer. He told me I had to put on shorts to go outside, and I cried. I think I was FIFTEEN. I couldn’t expose my thick thighs to the city of Everett! He truly didn’t understand why I was so afraid of wearing shorts outside. Ugh, men. 

Depression and body dysmorphia means that wearing a t-shirt and shorts to go outside is not that easy. It means trying on a bunch of items and throwing them on the floor because nothing works. Cap sleeves make your arms look bigger and you look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man in shorts. Ultimately, I always end up throwing a denim jacket over leggings and a tank. It’s always way too hot for long tight pants and DENIM ON YOUR ARMS. 

I was tired of it and decided that this summer was about FREEDOM. It’s too hot to not expose my skin in fear that some stranger might get offended by my body. People value thick thighs on a chicken, then they can value thick thighs on me. 

I wore sleeveless dresses and didn’t cover my arms in a jacket. I wore JORTS (jean shorts, but funnier) despite awkward bunching and cellulite. I wore crop tops, spandex shorts, and I EVEN ROCKED A FANNY PACK. I wanted to go to the dog park and feel like one of the animal trainer guests on a late night show when I dole out treats to all the dogs.  

WHAT CAN I SAY? I’M COURAGE WRAPPED IN PROSCIUTTO INSIDE AN ENIGMA.

Now that I had the right outfits, I couldn’t spend the entire summer inside with the shades drawn counting down the days until Christmas. Instead of walking my dog around the block, I got in my car and drove to the woods. I went hiking on various trails within a few miles from me. I met my friend Kathy to go kayaking. I went to an outdoor flea market and I ate ice cream. I waded in a lake, swam in a pool, and attended a barbeque. I even listened to the book WALDEN while walking around WALDEN POND. 

The point is, instead of writing summer off and waiting for it to be over, or waiting for my body to be in the right place to enjoy it, I embraced it for what it is. It’s hot, sticky, itchy, and has the potential to give me skin cancer and Lyme disease, but digging my heels in and complaining about it wasn’t helpful. Instead, I put on my jorts and SPF 250 and made the most of it. 

There’s only a month or so left, and I’m actually excited for it. I’m going on a solo trip to Portsmouth this week. Maybe I’ll go on a boat, or eat chicken fingers at a seafood place, or go down the Cape, or force myself upon a friend with a pool. There’s so much summer to be had and the cozy fall days will be even better after a summer spent summering. 

When it comes to depression and anxiety, I’m done letting them live my life for me. They cannot be the one making my decisions. “I’m not going to enjoy summer because I’m depressed and self-conscious” is no longer an option for me. I want to participate in my own life, and stop waiting around for things to get better... or, in my case, the trees to get deader. 

Just like my heart!