There is nothing romantic about the winter in Vancouver. It is grey, wet and miserable. The other night, depressed and drenched, I tried to cheer myself up by pulling a total Gene Kelly down West Broadway. Jacking up the sound on my iPod, I collapsed my umbrella and whipped around the first moderately-sized pole I could find. Alas it was no use. And so I pirouetted in to the Fairview Pub and tap-danced all the way to a double Jameson's on the rocks.
I am a pussy when it comes to a lot of things, except the weather. After living in Winnipeg for seventeen years, I figured there wasn’t a forecast I couldn’t handle. That was until I moved to Vancouver. There is nothing more depressing than a weekly forecast that is brought to you by the colour grey. This time of year on the prairies, I would be soaking up the sun with a hot chocolate and bailey’s, cross-country skiing down the Assiniboine River, and meeting my friends later for pints of Fort Gary Dark at the Toad. Now that I am in Vancouver, instead I find myself googling pictures of sunrises, popping caffeine pills like Jessie Spano, and counting down the days until the clouds part and I feel normal again.
Author’s note: Since I began writing this post, the sun has come out. Pardon me while I switch emotions.
After a recent change of skies, it has come to my attention that I may suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), also known as Sad Gay Bitch Syndrome (SGBS). This morning when I woke up I felt better than I have in months! I opened my curtains to find the sky blue and the mountain peaks covered in snow. Jumping out of bed, I dusted off my brown aviators, threw on some SPF 45 and pranced four blocks to breakfast.
The heat of the sun on my cheeks, it occurred to me that I have become so accustomed to dragging my feet like a zombie I forgot what it feels like to be a human – to have life! Two weeks ago, I was waxing eloquent on this same keyboard about how I was going to start writing about depression, anxiety and alcoholism. No wonder, with a cloud hanging over my head for the last five months and a kitchen sink filled with red wine bottles, I have been suffering from all three!
Here is a picture from my notebook to further illustrate how my mood changes with the forecast:
Here is a table of quotes to explain how my thought process changes with the skies:
I suppose no matter where you go winter is about survival and pushing through. I read in a self-help book once that the sky is always blue; sometimes you just have to rise above the clouds to see it. I will let you know when I book my plane ticket.