Craving the darkness

How I went from being a summer girl to longing for cozy season

As soon as August arrives, I breathe a sigh of relief. We almost made it, I think to myself. I used to be a summer person, loving it with all my heart, dreaming of it all year, bemoaning the fact that it was over much too soon. I loved the long days and warm nights, the endless sunshine, smelling of sunscreen and wearing breezy sundresses.

I still like those things, but I feel like I’m holding my breath all summer. It’s not only the excessive heatwaves that grow longer and hotter each year that scare me, it’s the risk of wildfires. Where we live it’s not a question of if they will happen (we know that they do), but a question of where. Will we be affected again? Might we lose everything? Will this summer be the one where our luck runs out?

But that’s not the only reason that summer has lost its allure. Summer is an introvert’s nightmare. It’s such a social season, filled with activities, vacation, spontaneous visitors, dinners, and just generally doing stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with my friends, but I need time in between to recharge my batteries, and there doesn’t seem to be enough. Fall and winter are much slower seasons, and I’m craving the slower pace. I’ve also developed an unexpected liking for darkness, something I never anticipated.

I used to fear darkness. It was full of demons that came out in the dark to taunt me, bad memories haunting me, evil lurking in every corner.
But if you’ve faced your demons, they lose their power over you.
If you’ve worked through your bad memories, you can lay them to rest.
And if you’ve shone light on your fears, you see that they’re not nearly as overwhelming and scary as you thought. They can’t hurt you anymore, not even in the dark.

Now I’m yearning for the darkness and quiet. They’re soothing to me. It’s where I lose myself in stories, my own and others, where I do all of my best thinking and growing. I remember the yoga classes we did while night was falling all around us in Costa Rica, how powerful and magical they were. The darkness isn’t scary anymore; it’s full of mystery and promise.

Summer is full of noise. The lakes teem with squealing children and laughing, tipsy adults; the woods are full of dirtbikes and ATVs; the roads are brimming with vacationers, tourists, and weekend travellers. My own backyard is the frequent host of expected and unexpected guests, and there seems to be an urgency in the air to pack as much as possible into each day because “summer will be over before we know it”. Well, I sure hope so, because I can’t hear myself think.

After a lifetime of not getting it, I finally understand that the answer to everything we need to know is already inside us. Every big question we have about life – what makes me happy? What should I do next? Should I commit to/leave/try again with my partner? What job is right for me? – can be answered if we search inside of us. But to do that we need quiet. We need time. And we need solitude.

If we don’t have those things we look outside ourselves for answers, which usually means that we go with what others are doing. Living in a capitalistic society, it typically involves spending money, trying to buy ourselves happiness in the form of stuff, vacations, “improvements” to our appearance (diets, gym memberships, skin products, hair products, nails, lashes, spa treatments, etc.), entertainment – the list goes on. To spend money we have to make money, which means we always hustle, we feel the pressure to do more, work harder, climb the ladder. Not only is it exhausting; the frantic pace keeps us from taking a step back, reflecting, and maybe realizing that life doesn’t have to be that way.

Last winter I did a lot of reading, writing, and hiking, and in the process I managed to let go of most of the baggage that I’d carried around with me for decades. Old wounds, insecurities, and problems were laid to rest, and with it my old fear of darkness. It was actually the first winter of my life I was sad to see go – I loved the peaceful cocoon I had woven for myself. I also know that not drinking alcohol anymore plays a significant role in the peace and tranquility that winters give me now; the 2am scaries are gone for good.
All this to say: I can’t wait for the long nights to return. They now feel cozy and safe.

Fall has always been my favourite season, and this year I’m also really looking forward to winter. To my surprise I’ve discovered that I feel most like myself in the colder months, stomping through the snow with my dogs, then warming up by a roaring fire with a steaming mug of hot coffee or tea, working on my next book.

The stillness of winter lends itself to spending a lot more time with just ourselves. And as it turns out, I really like my own company these days.

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