Getting Used to the Cold

We in the Midwest often think we’re tougher than everyone else. Given our brutally cold winters, we believe our superhuman blood equips us to withstand Mother Nature’s harshest moods. Midwesterners believe it is a rite of passage, surviving a full year of blizzards, droughts, and everything in between. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

But are we really as tough as that?

Maybe not, but we must survive anyway. And part of that survival lies in knowing what the landscape ahead looks like. Now that I’ve lived through twenty-five, bone chilling, Midwestern winters, I’ve begun to understand what to expect. When it is thirty degrees below zero, I know to make the most of my time in the sun. I know to wear ski gear in layers and forget about fashion. I read the thermometer before stepping out so I know just how to lean into the wind. I’ve learned to navigate Chicago’s underground tunnels and avoid certain el stops so I don’t have to step outside. I’ve learned to walk fast, because running hurts even more.

But there are times, when no matter how much I’ve prepared, I’m still not ready. I heard the news and I brace myself, ready to plow through the wind. And outside, my expectations are exactly right. It sucks. It stings. I’m mad at the whole world because it’s still difficult even though I knew it would feel this way.

It’s enough to make me reconsider my whole lifestyle. It’s enough to make me wonder if I really need to venture out to begin with. When it’s so cold, can’t I just stay inside, safe and warm?

Obvious reason aside – I doubt I could get exclusive privilege to telecommute for four months – there are plenty of justifications to face the cold. When we don’t venture out, we lack a depth of perception, a sense of reality, and we risk losing ourselves completely. When we don’t venture out, we forget just how fragile our safety and warmth is inside. It could all collapse in a second, and we’d be alone in the cold and darkness.

So we must depend on our tools, skills, and even our vices, to pull us through the depths of winter. And the more we endure, the more we acquire, so that each time, it’s just a little easier. Indeed, it changes our blood.

Better yet, there are times when I prepare for the worst, and it’s better than I expected. I prepared for snow and instead it is melting. I expected gray and instead there is sunshine. I saw wind and instead felt a breeze. It is beyond a pleasant surprise – it is a true miscalculation of expectations and it feels wonderful.

Does that mean it’s better to rid ourselves of expectations to roll with the punches? Absolutely not. But it does mean survival is easier with a positive outlook and chipper disposition. They’re so much more charming than doubt and insecurity besides. It may not make a person tough, but at least it makes her happy.