When You Need a Winter Warm Up and It’s Not Even Winter Yet

Two very real personas raising holy hell.

I guess this has been years in the making.

If I didn’t know better, I’d be thinking dissociative identity disorder (aka split personality.) But there’s no disintegration into a mental health condition, just no-holds-barred internal struggles. Two selves emerged, forged from blizzard-ravaged crystal clear icicles desperately trying to melt to a more amenable liquid state. The me that grew up not knowing the arctic blasts of winter, enjoying warm subtropical temps, and me#2 that experienced over a decade of British winters and senses this promises to be a brutal one.

Officially, it’s still autumn and already I’m struggling.

Common ground for mediation?

Both sides have no dislike for wintry conditions, rather they detest, despise, and abhor them down to the last subatomic particle of being—if possession of separate physical beings were possible.

When the readings dip into single digits, me#1 does not want to leave the house under any circumstances (Would leave if there’s a fire…and momentarily for a pervasive infestation of some kind—a mutual coexistence preferable to shivering.)

Me#1: *Checking the weather app on my phone* Don’t ya love how the reading is posted as 2˚C but states it feels like -1˚C. How they even determine what it feels like? Do they have MY feelings? No. Could feel like -5˚C to me.

Me#2: They’re trying to be helpful so people can make choices, like regarding clothing, travel, and stuff. I’m sure it’s about practical living applications.

Me#1: It’s a damn software program.

Daylight saving exacerbates shortened interchanges of darkness, greyness, and coldness, obscuring the passage of time and fuelling procrastination at mastery level.

Wait long enough and it’ll only get colder.

I justify how much dregs of shower gel can stretch. And if I can wear my warm fuzzy hooded housecoat to the gym for some weight training or just go on another day.

I contemplate warm CO2 enriched indoor air versus sub-zero fresh circulating outdoor air.

Wants compared to requirements.

Me#2: You’re making it harder on yourself, you know. You’ll have more errands to run, keeping you out in the elements longer.

Me#1: Don’t remember asking for input.

Me#2: I know you don’t like horror anything, but you’ll be living one if you don’t get up off your butt. If the children get hungry enough, they’ll probably eat you.

Me#1: You’re disgusting AND wrong! They’re finicky and lackadaisical and I’d be too much work.

Me#2: Got jokes but ain’t got enough gumption for a four-minute run to the store and back huh?

Me#1: Nailed it.

Me#2: What if I were to tell you, the last of the shower gel got used this morning? Ready to be hilarious and stink to high heaven?

Me#1: *Gets up and grabs coat*

As a child, I’d watch television programs showing people wearing winter coats with the sun shining bright. Back then, I couldn’t understand that it could be sunny AND cold.

Subtropical privilege.

Even though my son relocated with me fairly young, it took him a while to process that too. He’d run outside without a coat because “It’s sunny out.” Only to face the bitter reality that I too learned to accept.

We’re not home anymore.

My older brother attended university in Canada. I went in the opposite direction to Florida. He’d send pictures looking appropriately dressed for a North Pole expedition.

He tried explaining.

“They post frostbite warnings here. “

“???”

“The minutes listed on the signs specify the time you have to get from your car or other such warm places, to indoors or another warm place before parts of your body start to freeze.”

He said it so matter-of-factly.

I think some part of me was traumatized.

Here, I have clear memories of coming in from cold highways and byways and literally needing almost 48 hours to warm up. After long hot baths and numerous cups of tea. My bones felt cold.

Things I had no need to consider prior, like taking high dose prescription vitamin D supplements because my vitamin D levels get so low. I can now tell without a blood test. My bones ache.

No exaggeration. My body NEEDS sun AND warmth.

Me#2: Well, you’ve always wanted to hibernate for winter. Here’s the perfect opportunity.

Me#1: You know I can’t do that now.

Me#2: Whaaat?! Not curl up in a ball of warmth wrapped in layers of blankets and humidity generated by your own breath, sleeping until spring.

Me#1: You know by spring, my joints would be stiff and non-functional. A yoga master, I am not.

Me#2: But you’ve had all year to get on that path.

Me#1: Senility kicking in there? Did you forget the plan to leave at the end of this summer?

Me#2: Damn.

Me#1: Could still pull up stakes and get home in time though.

Me#2: Really? *Looking joyous*

Me#1: Sure, you book the tickets, PCR tests, and travel authorization with payment. Arrange for house clearance, packing, and shipping. Settle the car financing. Close all utility accounts and direct debits. Pay off the remaining six months on the rental lease and interrupt my son’s schooling in the middle of an exam year. All in all, might manage it for under £10,000 with a disoriented teenager on a plane. I’ll grab the suitcases.

Me#2: Sometimes you can be really mean.

Me#1: You’d have felt better just being reminded of exponential complication levels and financial depletion with a ratio of T minus 27 days until winter solstice?

Me#2: I’ll just go stand by the radiator.

Me#1: Best idea you’ve had all day.

I hold luxurious memories of being in spa steam rooms and saunas. My Cunwe’s invitation to complete a traditional Lakota sweat lodge whenever I come to visit. My last year of clinicals during the summer of 2018 when there was a bona fide heatwave. Sweat pouring off me and me smiling while everyone else griped and groaned.

A promise kept: After enduring bitter cold, the stuff of Antarctic nightmares, I will never complain about the heat again.

I’ve seen a few native-born inhabitants still in tee-shirts. Royal Mail staff on their rounds in jackets but wearing shorts.

Another point of agreement.

Me#1 & Me#2: *In unison* Definitely no nerve endings!

There’s a long arduous slug until March and it probably won't even be warm enough by then. My British neighbors mirrored my actions earlier this year…had to turn the heating on in July.

Perhaps a strategy session to get me through one more UK winter in case I don’t win the lottery by the weekend.

Me#2: Quick!!! The sun’s out! Let’s go buy groceries for the rest of the year!

Me#1: Great plan. Teeny-tiny apartment. Not executable. *Puts on first thermal layer* Plus, you know my children. They’ll just eat it all faster.

Me#2: So you’re in agreement for regular shopping trips or deliveries then?

Me#1: Heck no. *Reaches for second thermal layer* I still reserve the right to procrastinate or just say I ain’t going out there. And I know you remember the last online shopping fiasco. Item not available. Item not available. Item not available. Twelve items delivered cost nearly £30. No thanks.

Me#2: Your strategic plan. Stay inside and starve.

Me#1: Actually, I was thinking Sydney ‘til March on a job exchange. *Dons woolen hat and reaches for gloves*

Me#2: Really???!!! Oh, you’ve outdone yourself! That sounds fantastic! I can feel the warm—

Me#1:—Nope. Just kidding. *Gets winter outercoat*

Me#2: *Snatches the scarf and whacks me with it* WHHHHHHYYYY joke about something like that?

Me#1: Cuz you fall for it every time.

Me#2: Snow snob.

Me#1: First snowball of the season’s got your name on it, ya frost fraidy-cat.

Me#2: Winter whiner.

Me#1: Cold cry baby.

Me#2: Polar punk-out procrastinator!

Me#1: Irritating icy ingrate!

Me#2: Yeah, and all that time you took getting ready, the sun’s gone. Have fun in Freezerville!

Me#1: Think I’m going alone? Hahahaha!

Me#2: Shut up.

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