I never understood the idea of seasonal depression. Growing up in Vegas meant running outside every time it rained. Growing up in Vegas meant sunny days 90% of the year. Growing up in Vegas meant in 18 years, I only had one snow day; school was cancelled because there was an inch of white powder covering the streets.

I moved to Utah at the beginning of 2016. I saw more snow on move-in day than I had in my entire life. You could see me tromping through it wearing sandals and a t-shirt, silently praying I wouldn’t drop my boxes full of plates or clothes.

Day after day, week after week, I woke up to dreary clouds. It was cold and snowy. Mother Nature didn’t give a dang about just how wearisome it was. I couldn’t run outside or play a quick game of volleyball on the lawn. I also couldn’t leave the house without a jacket and water-proof shoes. It was frustrating and I was miserable.

Even when I had all my work and responsibilities done quickly, I would end up just shivering in my room on my bed. It felt as though I was trapped in a box. An ice box.

I hear a lot of people tell me to just go outside anyway or even to suck it up. That’s much easier said than done. The darkness found outside, below the clouds, begins to creep into your life. Seasonal depression is a real thing.

In my four months at school, there were five sunny days. It was as though every single person on campus went outside and simply basked during those rare hours. If there was available Vitamin-D, we’d take it.

During the days where my lips would bleed and my toes would freeze, I started to recognize my love for the sun. The sun would give me motivation to get up in the morning. It would allow me to dress however I wanted. It gave me the opportunity to play sports when I wanted to and train outside of the gym. The sun is truly beautiful.

I no longer take sunny days for granted. I count every day filled with warmth and light a blessing.