Winter makes sense to me.

I've always liked the cold. I've actually always loved the cold. Which is like, ok? cool… until you realize how many people fucking hate winter. Like deep-in-their-bones despise it. And I've never related. Even as a kid. Cold air felt good. Early dark felt normal.

This isn't just nostalgia. I remember liking it then. I didn't grow into this. It was already in there somewhere. Which is probably why I never stopped to ask what it was about. Because why would you?

I never seem to analyze things that aren't a problem.

For a long time I think I assumed everyone secretly felt this way and was just complaining because that's what people do. Seasonal complaining. Group bonding through misery. Etc. But no. People mean it. Like REALLY mean it. Winter shows up and everyone immediately starts talking about how bad it's going to be and how they just have to survive it or push through or whatever. And I'm over here like… whatt?!

Honestly, it's almost like I have to put on a show of OH yeah, winter EW. Totally. Wow. It's going to be below freezing. Hate that for youuuuu. Because if I don't, I get stares. Confusion. Immediate disbelief. Like I need to explain myself right away because congrats, we found the glitch in the matrix and she's here. Come grab this anomaly.

I think I learned about the word weird before I learned about trusting myself.

You know last year I was actually searching for a winter solo getaway. Like THAT is my dream week away. I saw this TV show about a murder in a winter wellness retreat in Iceland I think and I was like YES, I want this. Not the murder. I want the sauna, a cold dip, the giant glass window, and I want to hear the wind flipping out outside while I'm inside. And SNOW EVERYWHERE, for miles and kilometers and miles. And some tea.

And I don't want to go snowshoeing necessarily. Or snowboarding. Or something that makes the snow productive. I just want to stare at the snow from inside my cozy little room and occasionally get a massage or a head spa.

That's it.

Winter just feels alive. Or like I'm back online. Everything feels sharper in the cold. My brain works.

I used to just think I was weird. A common theme here. Why am I even letting that word touch me at this point.

I like being cozy. Obviously. But not nap-cozy. Alert cozy. Heavy wool and candles that flicker. And incense that smells like crackling firewood. OMG FIREWOOD. My favorite. Like something is just burning away and if I close my eyes, it's like the fire is right there in the room with me. That smell hits and I am not in the room or in my body anymore.

My dad's family is Dutch and they're always saying gezellig. I'm pretty sure it's translated as cozy, but it's not that. Cozy feels like I went to IKEA and grabbed some throw pillows and a blanket. Gezellig feels structural. Like the room at the winter wellness spa. You need to know it's cold outside and you're warm inside. That's the key. It contains the coziness.

I don't like winter because it gives me permission to stay home. I don't need permission. I'm 38. I say no easily. We healed that a few years ago with the people pleasing.

What I like is what happens inside this old brain of mine. Winter doesn't make me smaller. It feels clearer? Less noisy? I can think without everything slamming up against the side of my brain all at once. I can sit still with an idea without immediately trying to make it useful or impressive or productive or explainable. Or m o n e t i z a b l e. Not everything needs to make money, Melissssssa.

Like, why am I not thriving when it's sunny and everyone is outside and this is supposed to be the good part? Which is such a stupid question when I say it out loud.

What if liking winter isn't psychological or even a preference. What if it's just an inherited rhythm — and the dark months are when my system was always supposed to work?

If your people came from places where winter was long and dark and survival depended on staying put and planning and insulating and waiting, cold doesn't land as depressing. It's just another December 15th.

This isn't like my thesis paper. (or issss it?!) I just know this explanation annoys me less than something is wrong with me, which has been my default explanation for a long time.

I don't think everyone feels this way. Some people genuinely come alive in heat. They need HEAT, brightness and chaos and motion and being out constantly. But it's weird how fast winter preference gets treated like a red flag. Like if you like the dark, you must be avoiding something.

I don't think I'm avoiding anything. I think this is just when my system works. Or when it works best. Or when it works without me having to fight it.

Maybe this is me stopping before I call it weird.

New series idea: Things I didn't understand yet. (or have called weird) Winter is one of those things.

It snowed in New York City this week and it's beautiful and I'm staring outside my bedroom window and there is snow everywhere and it's magical. It's SO cold now. I'm wearing my wool. Lighting my candles. Burning firewood-smelling incense like they're going out of business.