We haven’t had any snow that’s stuck yet, but the temperature has definitely dropped – we’ve had freezing rain, and the snow won’t be far behind.
I don’t mind the cold so much, but snow annoys me. I’m much better at getting around in it now than I used to be, but it still creates too many obstacles that I just don’t need.
I wrote this short personal essay about winter in 2006, when I was considerably less mobile. It appeared in a book of personal essays that I wrote called “Run, Run Because You Can”. The book is out of print now, but I’m considering bringing it back in E-book form when I get the time to put it together.
Anyway…I hope you enjoy the essay.
Today the world is white. Overnight, the temperature dropped to below -20 degrees Celsius, and we received five centimetres of snow. The snow will continue to fall all day, the local weatherman assures me, and likely into the afternoon tomorrow. It is winter in Ontario.
I generally volunteer on Wednesday mornings, but today I will not risk walking into town and falling. They don’t need me badly enough to justify a cab ride. I could call my father, but I’m sick of bothering him at work for rides. I call and tell them I will not be in.
Through my window, I watch the white world. Today, stuck in my apartment, I feel stuck in my life.
“Your problem,” my father told me early on in all of this (and it does seem oh-so-long ago today) “is that you’ve watched all those medical dramas on television, and you expect for all of this to be resolved in fifty-six minutes…it doesn’t work that way, love.”
Not in fifty-six minutes, I tell the snow, or fifty-six days, or fifty-six weeks, or even fifty-six months. Soon it will be five years, sixty months, since the stroke.
I want to be fully recovered today. Right now.
Successful people in our society move. They are people that “go places”, that are “on the move”, “movin’ on up”, that “rise above the rest”. They live “on the run”, and “on the go”. They don’t stand and look at the world through snowy windows, they go out in it and make things happen.
“Stuck” is a knot in my throat and a brick in my stomach. I will not be going to town. I will not be going anywhere. I can’t stop snow or melt ice, and I can’t make my brain realize that I have a perfectly useful left hand.
The thing about being stuck is that I totally put myself there. You can’t feel stuck unless you’ve convinced yourself that there’s a better, “unstuck” state for you to be living in.
I think about what I would do if I went into town today
On days like this, days where I come up against a wall of “stuck”, I have to remind myself (as gently as possible, for this is the only way in which we should remind ourselves of vitally important things) that “success” in my life will flow from me just doing my best to be me. Me, with a weak side and faulty wiring in my head!