So it snowed. It’s the first time we’ve had a proper snowfall here in about five years. It was my daughter’s first real snow, or rather the first she’d remember, so it was lovely. My eldest was cheered, as it’s the first time it’s snowed since we moved house. And I’m pretty certain he, having the mind of a child, illogically blames this on our new area.
I really really needed this snow. I didn’t realise how much until my son woke us up to cries of “Oh my god, it’s snowing!!!!” Looking out the window I was instantly uplifted. It looked peaceful and beautiful. It was soothing. I actually felt a faint sense of relief.
Snow gave me hope
I had in fact made plans for that day, but they had to be put aside due to transport problems, because of the weather. I found I didn’t mind too much, as I had increasingly begun to feel that I needed to stay at home and take this opportunity to reconnect.
Most importantly though, this snowfall gave me hope. This snow came after five years of nothing, five years of my son asking, three years of both my children asking if it will snow. And us all being a little disappointed each winter when it didn’t. After a week in which I was sinking further and further into a deep pit of feeling trapped and despairing, it served as a reminder of the very greatest kind that things can change even after a long, long time.
I’ve been feeling increasingly disconnected from the season, from my children, from my life even, and the snow has put me back in touch a little bit.
The day still wasn’t perfect; I still wasn’t perfect. There were still lots of decorations needing to go up, and so I still felt overwhelmed. I got upset, because for years I had set places for each decoration, and found I couldn’t remember where they went: a sign of how low my mental health had sunk that week. The house was in total disarray. As much as I am useless at keeping a tidy and aesthetically pleasing house, I need pleasant, semi-organised environments in order to stand a chance of thriving emotionally. In chaos and mess I deteriorate quite swiftly. And by nighttime I felt a crushing loneliness that caused me to retreat to the sofa under a dressing gown for a little while.
The snow was by no means a cure, and it didn’t make everything alright but it did give me a respite that I desperately needed. Hope and promise and joy.
Today the snow is falling but there is also sleet and the streets are slushy and wet. It probably won’t stick. But I’m watching the snow as it falls past my window and my brain feels unusually calm for a change.
Things do change. There is hope.
Reproduced with permission, originally posted on what kirsty did