Hi·ber·nate [hi-ber-neyt] verb: to pass the winter in a torpid or lethargic state.(Webster’s Third New International Dictionary)
I am torpid. I am lethargic. The season is winter. Thirty-four days in, fifty-seven days to go. Motivation vanishes under snow and ice, and a gray malaise settles over the land. When the thermometer reads 3 degrees Fahrenheit, hibernation seems like a wise choice.
For many years, I practiced a form of hibernation: sleep, work, eat, and repeat. Then I made a decision that we will no longer succumb to winter – we will schedule activities to force ourselves awake! We will choose life over dismal endurance! Plays, concerts, musicals and dinner parties pepper our calendar the first 3 months of the year. But every single time, my first thoughts run to staying in bed, main-lining hot drinks and staring at our freshwater aquarium: in there, it is always balmy.
Momentum fizzles. Imagining a warm afternoon, walking along in sandals, sunglasses required, is hard enough. Imagining a new life is nearly impossible. It will be winter forever, it seems, and how can I change my life if I am wrapped tightly in a Snuggie?
This week, I hibernate. Just for a week. Winter and I nod at each other in mutual acknowledgement. Don’t judge; you know you want to nod off for a month, too.
How do you cope with winter? (Really. I need some pointers.)