Snow Storms, Hope, and Resilience

We're having snow lately. Not the pristine, delicate, lacey kind. I'm talking about the piling-up, slopping, driver-endangering, school-closing, electricity-threatening kind. Is my enthusiasm for February showing?

Yes, I know, I live in New England, so what do I expect? But I will say in my own defense that I come by my winter-averse feelings honestly.

When I first became a single mother, my daughter was a baby, and doubting myself in my new single parent role was a way of life. During those initial years, I had some less than enjoyable experiences of wintertime. I remember the time our car slid down a steep and icy driveway into a busy street because my brakes were rendered useless. I also remember our car breaking down on the side of the road as I tried to drive my daughter to her childcare provider's in a snow storm so I could get to the place of employment that constituted our family's only source of income. And the freak ice storm that struck when she was a toddler, leaving us without electricity in our basement apartment for almost a week.

Now, some years later, I still feel my stomach drop when a winter storm is in the forecast. I'm still prone to loneliness, sadness, and feeling overwhelmed when winter elements are bearing down. But. Having survived those terrible experiences during our early years as a single mother family, I know that can get through these times. That's what lived experience has taught me.

Often, my therapy clients are facing their own kind of brutal winters. Addiction, depression, post-trauma symptoms. Intellectually, they know that these are survivable, but they don't know how they can do it personally. They don't have the lived experience yet. So, especially in the beginning, one of the most important things I can do is hold on to hope for them, knowing that in time, they will find their footholds and be able to hold hope for themselves. 

This is not just important in the realm of therapy. Throughout my life, there have been times when people have held on to hope for me when I have lost sight of it, and times when I have been the holder of hope for those I love. In the process, I have learned much about my own strength, but also that turning to one another for strength and hope is not just helpful, but desirable. It's part of what connects us to our humanity and to one another.

Here's to the promise of spring, and the personal and collective strength that gets us there.