Here in the great white north, Canada, we associate ourselves with winter. It doesn’t last as long as some might think when they think of Canada. Along the higher populated southern border we get about three months of really cold weather, usually.
Where I live in Southwestern Ontario, it’s usually three months. This year it’s been a very mild winter. The bay I live by has yet to freeze. It probably won’t, even if it does turn cold enough. It’s what my ancestors would have called an open winter. I’ve seen the grass of my lawn more than I’ve seen it covered with snow.
But Friday last brought flurries, fed by evaporation from Georgian Bay, that fell with a steady building progress and blanketed my little town quite completely.
Finding a kind of peace
I stood at my window and looked out, and wrapped myself in the warmth of the emotion that always comes with a snowfall.
The effect was to make a wonderland of the area. And the effect on me was the same as it always is. I stood at my window and looked out, and wrapped myself in the warmth of the emotion that always comes with a snowfall. It always makes me feel calm.
I never understood why others didn’t feel this way. Being well aware that I was different, I did not know what that difference was until my ADHD diagnosis. I accepted that the sense of peace and calm that a sudden snowfall caused in me was an indicator of my difference, possibly even part of my difference. Now I know better.
My ADHD manifests in distraction, often. A sudden confrontation with a world rendered monochromatic by several inches of snow makes my surroundings much less distracting. My world becomes less detailed. My life becomes more focused. My state of mind becomes more relaxed. My heart lightens and my smile is maybe just a bit quicker to show.
I know that I’ll have to drive in this, that I’ll have to shovel it and walk in it. I know my feet are going to be cold if I don’t wear my felt-packs, or I’m going to feel clumsy if I do wear them. But I don’t care.
I like driving in the dark of night because there are fewer distractions. I like cloudy days because the glare of the sun doesn’t make me look from one bright reflective thing to another. And I like snow because it paints my world white, covering many irrelevant things and leaving me to think about matters at hand.
Is snow a cure for ADHD?
I know that you can’t cure ADHD. I wouldn’t want a cure anyway. It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to be able to focus at will, or step outside my door and not fear what was going to come out of my mouth next, or feel assured that I could make the right life decisions, but I wouldn’t sacrifice the way my mind works for those things. We’re here for one lifetime, and when that’s done I want to know that I was me. I doubt I’ll care if I was rich, but I’ll care that I was a caring person. And my ADHD has no negative effect on that.
So, no cure for me …
I will, however, take what I can get when it comes to being unhindered by my symptoms whenever I can. So I’m looking at my glass as half full, not half empty. It’s half full … of snow.