Beat the Blue Monday Blues
That time of year is coming again: Blue Monday. A day so famously bleak it was invented by a travel company to sell you a vacation. While the science is shakier than a Jell-O salad at a potluck, the feeling is real. But here in Medicine Hat, we have a secret weapon—and it’s not just the cheap gas.
We are the sunniest city in Canada. We get more annual sunshine than a beach in a tourism brochure. For those of us who grew up on the "Wet Coast," where winter is a six-month audition for a role in a Gothic novel, this is a glorious shock. Back home, you measured daylight with a moisture meter. Here, you get actual vitamin D, not just seasonal-affective-disorder and a lawn that is more moss than grass.
Dec 2024 - photo credit Kelly Allard
The Medicine Hat Advantage: Sunshine and Sorcery
Our winter is different. On the coast, a warm winter day means the rain is only a drizzle, not a downpour. Here, a warm winter day might be a Chinook.
For the uninitiated, a Chinook is when Mother Nature forgets she’s in Alberta and cranks the thermostat to "balmy." I once saw a Chinook raise the temperature from -30°C to 10°C in a matter of hours; it was meteorological whiplash. So much snow melted so fast, it flooded the highway underpass at the Brier Park off-ramp. The water wasn't a puddle; it was a lake. And I, along with several other astonished drivers, watched a guy in a wetsuit actually jet-ski across it at speed.
This reminded me of my high school days in Richmond, BC, where it once rained so much a guy was canoeing in the back field. (The school was built on a raised platform, so class wasn't even cancelled, just another wet Tuesday.)
So, while the rest of the country is simply cold, we get epic sagas of flash floods and impromptu water sports. Let’s use this to our advantage.
Your Anti-Blue Monday Playbook (Hatter-Approved)
Chase the Light Like It Owes You Money: You don’t need to summit a mountain at dawn. Just drink your morning coffee in the sunniest spot in your house. Take your "sun break" like a true professional: stand directly in a sunbeam for five minutes. Complain loudly about the glare. You’ve earned it.
Take Schadenfreude Walks: Feeling low? Bundle up for a walk, then pull up the live weather camera for Tofino, BC. Watch the horizontal rain and 50 km/h winds batter the coast while you stroll under a brilliant blue sky in Kin Coulee Park. It’s not mean; it’s appreciating your life choices. The combination of fresh air, sunshine, and vicarious dampness is incredibly uplifting.
Embrace the Chinook Chaos: When the wind starts howling from the west and your ears pop, don’t just sit there! This is a free, natural event. Go outside in a lighter jacket and feel smug. Watch the snow vanish. Listen for the distant sound of jet skis starting up in unexpected places.
Visit Things That Are Greener Than You (Emotionally): Go to places like the Windmill Garden Centre and walk around. While the Butterfly House is not yet open, you can still breathe in the humid, plant-fart air (that’s oxygen to you) and say hello to the goats and exotic birds. For a lower-commitment option, visit a pet store and judge the fish for their lack of life goals. They are so calm. How dare they?
For the Truly Housebound: The 15-Minute Power Glow: Can’t face the outside? Fine. Your mission: turn on every single light in your living space for 15 minutes. Make it so bright a satellite could use your house for calibration. Blast yourself with synthetic sunshine. Pair this with a Vitamin D gummy (your therapist’s other best friend) and pretend you’re commanding the bridge of the USS Enterprise. (2026 is the 60th anniversary of Star Trek, so you’re not being quirky, you’re being historically celebratory.) It’s weirdly effective.
When the Sunshine Isn't Enough (A Serious Note, We Promise)
If your low mood has set up a permanent campsite and is refusing to leave, it’s time to call in the professionals. This is not a failure; it’s a strategic alliance.
Local Resources That Don’t Suck (And Are a Sign of Strength)
If any of this resonates, consider it a nudge. You don't need a crisis to start.
Behavioural Health Consultants (BHCs): This is the service that changed my life. They are your mental health mechanics—trained to help with stress, grief, anxiety, depression, and navigating life’s chaos. They are free with a medical professional’s referral (Alberta Health covers it), and you can see them as regularly as you need, for as long as you need. It’s preventative care for your mind.
Your Family Doctor: The perfect, non-intimidating first step. They can provide that referral, check in on your overall health (including things like Vitamin D), and help you build your wellness team.
The 24/7 Mental Health Help Line (1-877-303-2642): For when things feel too heavy, and you need to talk to someone right now.
More Services on This AHS Website
So this Blue Monday, remember: you live in the sunniest place in the country, where the weather can change from "arctic expedition" to "patio season" faster than you can say "where did all this meltwater come from?" Use it. Lean into it. And if that doesn’t work, there’s absolutely no shame in getting a little help from your friends—the professional ones.
Kelly Allard 2023
A Personal Word on Strength: Why I See My BHC Every Month
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the idea that needing help is a sign of weakness. I once held that belief too. I thought I should be able to handle the stresses of everyday living - after all what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, amiright?
(I was wrong - SO wrong.)
I started seeing a Behavioural Health Consultant (BHC) in 2016, and I’ve never stopped. It began with managing stress I wasn't handling well. Then, when my late husband became critically ill and was on life support for a month, I saw my BHC every week; she was a lifeline. When he died in 2019, she guided me through the grief. I still see her once a month or sooner if something serious comes up in my life.
My BHC provides a space where I can unpack thoughts I don't want to burden others with—it is a great release valve for the pressure of trying to hold it all together when I am falling apart inside.
We take care of our physical health with regular check-ups, yet often neglect our minds until they're in crisis.
My BHC has treated our entire family—my husband saw her for depression before I ever did. This care isn’t a sign of failure; it’s the most responsible form of maintenance I do. It helps me process the world, do my job, and live my life.
I don't go to therapy because I'm weak. I go because I'm strong enough to know when I'm out of my depth.
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