It’s that time of year again. The dreaded hour, I’m afraid, is upon us. The chilly air no longer holds promises of Christmas; the ground, once sprinkled with frosty snow, is now awash in a mixture of mud, ice, and tears. The holidays are over, and it is time for us to face reality once more. That, however, is easier said than done. Human beings tend to cope well with change, and that can be both a good and bad thing. As a brand new college student, freshly booted from the proverbial nest, this adaption skill proved necessary and useful in my transition into a new way of living. I doubt I would have survived past the first week were it not for the innate ability to change and morph with my environment. This fundamental part of humanity, although critical to existence, proves a catastrophic attribute in the month of January, however.

Within the short few weeks of freedom from responsibility, stress, and homework, my body and soul, much like many others, has become accustomed to this fleeting joy. Even though I knew that it would not last, as it has never lasted before, and even though I was aware that the holidays must come to an end, that end, somehow, still managed to surprise me. One moment, I was skipping merrily down the street of life, every day a blur of contentment, and the next, WHAM I catapulted face-first into a brick wall of disappointment and anxiety. It was a rude awakening, to say the least. Time, I realize, must always move forward, and no living organism can escape its flow. That being said, the weeks surrounding Christmas and New Year form some sort of disorienting bubble. Within this short span, it is as though time no longer exists. What day is it? No idea. What time? Probably nap time. How long have I been lying here on the couch covered with candy wrappers and illuminated only by the faint glow of my laptop screen? The world may never know.

This Bermuda Triangle of existence repeats itself year after year. And, I always somehow manage to convince myself that this time it will be different. That, by some miracle, I will finally gain control over the sucking void of the holiday season. That, however, is never the case. This year, like every year before, I have once again been slammed with the horrible reality of “the real world.” As I go forward, emerging from my secluded sanctuary into the unpredictable and ever-looming outside, I hope and pray that the same coping mechanism that caused my horrific state will swoop in and save me soon. I can only hope that my body and mind will once again reform and adapt to my new environment. But, if I’m being completely honest, it will be good to escape my prison of ease, for one can only live so long within the lull of time before what once seemed a dream morphs into a nightmare.