Fuck, It's Freezing

learning how to stay open when everything in you wants to shrink

Over the last couple of months, I’ve gotten into the habit of walking. In the mornings, after dropping my kid at school, I take the long, winding way home that adds an extra 10–15 minutes. Then there’s the afternoon walk, and finally, the evening stroll once the children are in bed.

Tonight was fucking cold. I mean, it’s December 4th, and I was slapped in the face by -17°C that felt like -19°C (that’s 1.4°F, feels like 2.2°F for my dear American readers).

I genuinely felt like Jack in Titanic the moment he hits the water for the first time: Oh shit, it’s cold. Oh shit, shit, shit.

My whole body contracted, curling in on itself as if shrinking into a ball might magically make me warmer.

But that’s wrong.

I’ve spent enough winters in Canada to know that tightening up does jack shit. If anything, it makes you colder.

This spring, I read Michael A. Singer’s The Untethered Soul for Allysha Lavino’s magical book club, which helped me become more aware of my thoughts and how I’m feeling. So while my body was contracting, my mind noticed the voice in my head saying, fuck, it’s freezing, and I made myself relax.

I eased my shoulders back and rolled them a few times. I let my arms swing. I swayed a little as I walked. I focused on my breath, pulling in deep lungfuls of air that bit at my nostrils. It wasn’t ideal weather for deep breathing, but every so often I took big, deliberate drags of icy air.

By the time I rounded the corner onto the other end of my street, I could feel the shift. My muscles had loosened, my body felt open, and I was way less cold than I would’ve been if I had seized up.

It was the first time I’ve consciously recovered from that intense cold shock reaction, and as I wrapped up the walk, I couldn’t help thinking about the other places in my life where I could use this same muscle of determined will. Mind over matter.

Like when I jump into cold water and freak the fuck out before my body even has a chance to acclimate.

Or when I’m in an uncomfortable situation and shrink into myself because some part of me thinks becoming small equals becoming safe.

What if I keep becoming more aware of what my thoughts are saying, so I don’t just react — but choose how to act?

My body gave me the cues tonight. It’s pretty smart, so I think I’ll keep listening, and if you have any tips or experiences of your own, I’m all ears.

Love and gratitude,

Sylvia