As we wade into spring I must reflect upon the last few months … this has been a rough winter.

I went for a walk with a friend this month and we chatted about how this winter has been particularly difficult emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I told her that as winter was approaching this past fall, I decided to quit my SSRIs cold turkey — which I highly recommend nobody does. I felt like I would be fine “on my own” and that I had learned enough tools to deal with my anxiety and depression to function without the crutch of medication.

This was partially true.

I discovered that the winter weather I had experienced in Alpena during the holidays these past few years was much milder than what Northeast Michigan has experienced these past few months.

This was the first winter that I had to experience winter without the distraction of college bars or the city life.

While living in Lansing, I could find amusement by merely walking down the street from my apartment and sitting in a coffee shop or a busy Thai restaurant. Now, while living in Northeast Michigan full time, I am constantly at home, in the woods, and surrounded by snow …

More snow . . .

Even more snow . . .

There was no getting away from it.

I told my friend that the adjustment to the loneliness and exhaustion was taxing. However, I told her that this experience reconnected me to struggle. I discovered how struggle is a necessary emotion — a natural emotion. Why try to suppress something innate — something that is naturally human?

She said that this perspective was “wise.” I thanked her for the compliment.

Following this conversation, I’ve kept thinking about how important struggle is for humans. Struggle teaches us how to overcome our environment. It teaches us how to be humble and to appreciate sunshine and green grass.

Struggle is okay because it is necessary to be uncomfortable. And winter is the perfect backdrop to teach us that.

It was disheartening to witness this community, which I grew up in and love dearly, treat snowplow drivers with disdain and verbally mistreat them because they were trying to do their jobs. They didn’t cause the snowy mess – they were just cleaning it up.

This collective action symbolizes to me a projection of everyone else’s frustration. Being mad at the sky is not as satisfying as being mad and yelling at a human who has feelings – right? We want to place blame for our struggle onto someone else and make it their burden rather than our own.

The lack of sunlight may make us more somber and grumpy, but happiness can be created. That is why in the winter, we must labor to be happy and we must enjoy the labor.

I view this labor like that of a yoga flow. The more intensity you add to a flow, the higher the euphoria you will gain and the deeper the rest you will experience afterwards. Anne Lamott, an author and social activist, discusses a similar perspective on episode 301 of the Duncan Trussell Family Hour (DTFH) podcast.

(As a content warning, the DTFH podcast is not a family friendly podcast despite what the name may imply. Please do not let your children listen to it unsupervised.)

Lamott is famous for works such as Bird by Bird, a book that aims to teach writers to overcome the daunting, painful task of writing – very much on theme with the topic of this column, if I must say so myself.

In her DTFH episode, Lamott explains how important struggle is for humans and how the intersection of love and compassion can ease that pain.

From a Buddhist perspective, though informed by Christianity, Lamott discusses how Jesus’ crucifixion represents the human experience of grief, which is a form of labor. She describes the possessiveness of grief as instinctual, necessary, and painful.

“Jesus and God … he’s in labor and God never leaves him for a second … only love held him there on the cross,” Lamott said. “He could have called ten thousand angels to come to his rescue … only love held him there at the cross and he just was going through labor.”

Equating grief with labor, Lamott implies that all struggle can be attributed to the “push and pull” of labor, such as childbirth. Birthing, a complicated and excruciating process for women, yields the greatest blessings. Likewise, the process of grief can bring forth an appreciation for the present.

“You’re just in a process … it’s contraction and release and breath and peace,” she said.

I believe this concept of labor and grieving is what winter is supposed to teach us. We are supposed to spend the winter months in reflection and contemplation – grieving the amazing summer months that Michgian offers.

When spring is born, we know a beautiful summer is just around the corner.