Well it's finally hit, my yearly bout with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). For those of you who never heard of it, it's a mood disorder that affects humans during the cold, daunting months of winter. No one is sure why it affects only certain people, but my mother theorizes that it's genetic. She claims its inflicted her brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, and even her late mother. It seems to have passed its way down to me, because for a few weeks out of every year I feel like doing absolutely nothing; not working, not playing, not reading, not exercising, not talking, not writing. Everything seems to be a struggle, and my energy wanes to a weak gurgle. Im not sure what initiates this, every year something different sets me off. Maybe it's the presence of death, a lack of vitamin D, student debt, living at home, Egypt, or even the absence of color (actually there seems plenty to be depressed about). Regardless, there is very little that can be done other than waiting it out until green begins to uncover.
I tried one remedy last week; "the personal day" aka "the mental health day". As a kid I would sleep in, watch daytime television, and find ways to amuse myself while everyone else was at school. Nowadays that therapy only puts me into further despair. Activity is what cures me now. So last week, I decided to take a day off, drive to the White Mountains, and spend the day carving down a slope at high speeds. The timing couldn't have been better for a trip to Cannon; it was half price Thursday providing us with a $33 lift ticket, a new storm had just given us over a foot of fresh powder, and because it was a Thursday there were no lift lines. We left Boston before dawn, happy to see the sun pushing the clouds out of the way and giving us a clear path to the north. Just over 2 hours later we were putting on our boots and strapping into our bindings. It was still snowing in Franconia Notch where storms seem to get stuck in the confining barriers of the close knit range. We were up and down all morning, creating new paths in the virgin powder and doing our best to emulate the Winter X Games. We took a break for lunch and were more than pleased to hear the announcement that the clouds were departing and the summit lift would be opening. Everyone there was in great spirits, happy to take pictures of strangers, and enjoying the fresh air on a work day. We spent the afternoon making the long runs from summit to base without hesitation. Eventually the clouds gave way to blue skies and phenomenal views of the snowcapped mountains that surrounded us. Cruising from the summit, you moved down toward the clouds below creating a dreamlike scene unknown in the city. Not once did we mention work or anything negative. We were living in the present and enjoying the therapeutic retreat from the concrete jungle we call home.
So often I forget to appreciate the gifts that the winter provides us. Life in the city during this time of the year consists of complaints about shoveling, stepping in slushy puddles, black snow, waiting in lines at bars, and the flu. There is so much more that we miss because of this omnipresent negativity. This is why employers give us these days, so that we can aleviate the stress caused by the season. It just seems to me that we don't use them correctly. These kinds of activities allow us to focus on the present and help to shift our anxieties from the past and future to the immediate. I wasn't concerned about loans, relationships, or illness. Instead, I was focused on speeding down a mountain as fast as possible without killing myself. For me that's what life is all about.
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