We know, we know: it’s been a long-ass winter.  If you’ve been anything like me over the past few months, you’ve been hibernating under blankets and cats, eyes glued to Netflix, mouth attached to a bottle of Cab. But flannel pyjamas and down-filled quilts aren’t the only things I’ve been cloaked in since November; I also found myself swamped by negativity (thanks, vitamin D deficiency) and addicted to saying “No.”

“Do you want to go to see that new movie?” Friends would ask me.

“No.”

“How about going out for that overdue birthday drink?”

“Meh.”

“Did you want to try that improv class?”

“Yeah, no.”

My Houdini act initially worried friends (“Uh, are you still alive?!”). But eventually worry waned to acceptance as no-show status became my status quo and they were all like, “OK. Byeee!” and left me alone.

Negativity didn’t just poison my social life, though. Its toxic ooze found its way into my physical body resulting in an Elephant Man-like allergic reaction and a raucous ride down a flight of stairs that left me bruised, battered and unable to sit on anything but a donut hole for two weeks. There was a good month when it seemed no one was getting back to me—editors, job prospects, doctors, my Mom—as if my emails were being rejected by all the servers in the universe. I felt utterly stuck and useless. Sure, I could blame everything on Mercury Retrograde, the scapegoat of all scapegoats, but I knew better: it was me and my terrible case of the Nos.

Tired of all the haterade I was consuming, I decided that instead of resisting everything, I would greet life and all of its calamities with open arms and a resounding YES (with the exception of anything that could hurt me or anyone else, of course): Yes to birthday draanks (even if it’s minus 30 outside and I can’t feel my face). Yes to Pilates class (even if my derriere is a beautiful shade of indigo). Yes to my gluten allergy, to the winter blahs, to that jerk who cut me off in traffic. YES!

At first my Yes was one belonging to a begrudging bratty kid who was simply obeying the law of something bigger than I was because I didn’t have another alternative. It was insincere, mechanical and a bit of a smartass. But, I soon discovered that even if I wasn’t feeling the Yes, the Yes was feeling me. It invaded my body and mind, softening me, encouraging me, and ultimately, exciting me.

When I began saying Yes to life—whether it was with a pumped-up exclamation mark (“HELL YES!”), or a cautious ellipsis (“Uh, yes…”)— my life started to shift. I started to meet new people, reconnect with old friends, try new things (like, curling!) and even rediscovered an old passion of mine—acting (the moment I said “yes” to giving that another crack, I was offered a role in a short film and a spot on an MTV show within a week). My allergy became more manageable; my bruises healed quickly the clouds parted and some old bearded guy on a throne said, “Let there be light!” and there was light.

OK. Maybe not that last one. And maybe this all seems coincidental and sounds like a bunch of bullshit to some of you. But, let’s consider this: living is learning. Our brains run on this “use it or lose it” mentality, so when you aren’t learning, you’re basically starting to die a little each day. Possibility begets potential. The fewer possibilities in your life, the less potential you are living. I know this all sounds like it’s part of the McConassiance, but, really, just try it. Try saying Yes to the barre class that your friend wants you to join with her, that movie you’d normally avoid, or the house party where you only know the host. If you’re usually reserved, introduce yourself to that interesting person at the art exhibit. If you’re normally boisterous, try standing back and let someone else take the limelight in your improv class.

Buddhists are all about the power of Yes because when we start to say a friendly Yes to our experiences, we awaken the healing power of love that helps to dissolve the feeling that something is wrong in our lives, and gently relaxes our doubts and fears.

Remember: there are no mistakes. Whatever happens, you’ll learn something. You may even discover (or rediscover) something awesome that changes your life for the better. It doesn’t need to be dramatic, either. What matters is that you’re opening yourself up to what life has to offer rather than clinging to the familiar – like an old quilt, a 2009 Merlot and the entire series of Dawson’s Creek.