Wintered

There was a time when winter didn’t seem like much because I was always distracted. In a previous iteration of my life, I would fill the darkness with any and all simple pleasures that I could find. When the days were at their shortest and the air began to gnaw at my fingers, I would throw myself at anything that seemed like it might offer even the most momentary respite from the weight of the world…anything that offered a place to hide.

I would hide in the bottom the bottle, behind a warm belly and a fist full of laughter that would drown out the noise in my head.

I would hide in a stranger’s bed or beside them in mine, siphoning off as much warmth as I could from the crook of their neck so that I wouldn’t notice the chill in my bones.

I would hide behind my friends, who I would use to fill every spare moment so that my mind never had a chance to stray.

I would hide in my truck as I threw it across the country because if I never sat still, my bullshit could never catch up with me… Right?

It was easy to blame the cold for my problems and even easier to pretend that they would vanish come spring, that they’d simply evaporate into the ether once there was enough sunlight to carry them there.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that winter doesn’t break me, that, instead, it dusts existing scars and fissures with a coat of fresh snow so that the nuance of their topography is recognizable against the blur of the world. It’s taken me even longer to see the beauty in having the clarity to not only name your demons but also look them in the eye.

My life has changed a lot in the last couple of years and these days I don’t have much to hide behind.

…a gentle pup, ignorant of the light that he brings to anyone that meets him.
…a simple fever dream that keeps me dusty and wide-eyed, digging for stories in the dirt.
…a wide open desert where no one can hear me howl at the sky.

It’s taken me so long to get here but this winter it’s just me and my demons, out here in the void, dancing around the fire and getting to know one another.

After a life spent learning how to see the dirt, sea, and sky, what a delicate pleasure it has been to learn how to see myself.