The state of Indiana hates me
This picture above is a hoax. It is catfishing. It is fake news. Why do I know this? I know this because it looks pleasant. Big flakes of snow makes for a pleasant vista. The fact that there is not snow on the ground would indicate that the temperature is not too terrible. A please vista for all to see and experience. Do not be fooled.
HERE IS WHAT IT IS REALLY LIKE
Winter in Indiana is not heaven or hell, it is permanently purgatory. It’s rarely the pretty kind of cold. It’s gray, damp, windy, and indecisive. Schizophrenia is not just about people, it is also about climate here in the Hoosier state. Snow doesn’t fall gently; it loiters. One day it’s 12°, the next it’s raining on dirty snowbanks like the sky has given up. There is no payoff—just sludge. This sludge permeates you entire existence; walking to your car? Yep. Take the garbage out? Put on hip waders.
There is no escape.
The sky disappears. Weeks of solid gray. No drama. No storms worth watching. Just a flat, oppressive ceiling that makes 3 p.m. feel like 7 p.m. Seasonal depression isn’t a theory here—it’s a lifestyle. At one time I thought those UV lights people blasted themselves with were silly. No longer and my hypocrisy looking back is towering.
Everything is brown and dead, but not cleanly dead. It looks like it is 1% alive and straight out of a poem by Edgar Allan Poe. Trees look like skeletons that never got buried properly. Lawns are a mushy blend of mud, bad decisions, and regret. Other places get snow-covered beauty or early blossoms. Indiana gets exposed dirt.
The cold is not heroic, it is sneaky. This isn’t Minnesota cold where you respect it. Indiana cold seeps into your bones, your socks, your mood. It’s the kind of cold that makes you tired instead of alert. The occasional day where Indiana decides to tease you, where the temperature suddenly is 48 degrees is an ambush. Mother Nature knows she is going to freeze you out the very next as she is a vile seductress
There’s nothing to look forward to… yet. Holidays are over. Spring is a rumor. March pretends it’s turning a corner, then slaps you with a late snow or freezing rain like a prank you didn’t consent to. There are days off in the months of January and February to offset some of the drudgery, but March…brutal. March is the cruelest month. Zero days off and the month has 31 days. Maybe this impacts teachers more than everyone else. And maybe you are thinking teachers have all summer off so quit complaining…you shut up. nIt dangles hope. A 55° day tricks you into believing. Then—bam—snow, wind, and 38° rain. Indiana doesn’t ease into spring; it gaslights you first.
January to March in Indiana strips away novelty. No scenery. No sunlight. No seasonal charm. Just endurance. You don’t live here during these months—you outlast them. If Indiana were a movie, January–March would be the bleak middle act where the character stares out a window and questions their choices… before the corn and thunderstorms redeem the place later.
Okay, Indiana is not all bad by any mean. She does some things really well. If you like soybeans - you are good to go. Enjoy the pace of the Midwest? Roger that. I have lived in the Indianapolis area longer than I have ever lived anywhere in my life and these have been the best parts of my life, so I want to leave you with one of the things that Indiana does so very, very well.
