Dec 5

Dec 5 How to Winter Well (Even If It’s Not Your Season)

I have never been a winter person.

I long for open skies, sunshine, warmth. Winter often feels like a long stretch of darkness and something to survive. Something to wait out until spring finally arrives and everything starts to bloom again.

But lately, I’ve been asking myself a different question:
What if winter isn’t something to get through?
What if it’s something to be in?
And even — if we’re open to it — something to learn from?

Winter as a Season of Pause

We live in a world that rarely pauses. Even in the darkest days of the year, we’re expected to produce, perform, plan, and push through. But what if winter is offering us something else entirely?

What if it’s asking us to slow down not because we’re “weak” but because we really need to.

For me, learning to winter well has meant stepping away from the pressure to “keep going” at all costs, and learning instead how to listen. To rest. To accept that being in a quieter season of life doesn’t make me less.

It just makes me human.

The Messy Middle (And Why You Don’t Need a Perfect Ending)

For a long time, I treated winter as the end of the year. A time to wrap things up, tie a bow on my life, and get ready for a clean start in January.

But what I’ve come to realise is that winter isn’t the end.

It’s the in-between.

It’s the space between what was and what’s coming. The quiet middle of the story. The time where not much appears to be happening and yet everything is quietly changing.

And there’s something liberating in that. Because it means we don’t need to have everything figured out. We don’t need to finish the year “strong.” We just need to keep going in our own way and at our own pace.

The Wisdom of Wintering

Katherine May, in her beautiful book Wintering, describes this season not just as a temperature change but as a way of being.

She invites us to see winter as a necessary season in all of our lives. Not just one marked by frost, but one defined by slowness, solitude, and surrender. A space where we allow things to fall away. Where we let our inner worlds recalibrate. Where we allow ourselves to stop striving.

This is an idea that I keep returning to:
Everything in nature knows how to winter.
Why shouldn’t we?

Trees drop their leaves and conserve energy.
Soil rests.
Animals hibernate.
The world turns inward — and trusts spring will come again.

Rest Is Not Laziness. It’s Wisdom.

Like many people, I find rest difficult.

I like doing. I like moving. I’ve spent most of my life thinking that energy and productivity were signs that I was doing life right.

But then came a health challenge that knocked me flat and I had to learn that energy is a resource. That rest is not just indulgence, but survival.

And winter, for me, has become a mirror of that lesson. It asks us to stop fighting our need for pause. To stop seeing stillness as failure. To stop expecting ourselves to be blooming all year round.

Making Peace with Quiet

Here’s something I’ve noticed about winter: it asks us to sit in the quiet. And that’s not always comfortable.

But the quiet isn’t empty. It’s full of possibility.

Therapist Julia Samuel talks about the fertile void — a period where things look empty on the surface, but underneath, growth is happening. That’s winter. A time where what’s growing is invisible, but no less real.

If you’re in that space right now — the uncertain middle, the undefined stretch know that you’re not lost. You’re just wintering.

Connection Still Matters (Especially Now)

Winter can feel isolating. We stay in. We cancel plans. We disappear behind closed doors.

But those small moments of connection — they still matter.

Sometimes they’re the thing that get us through.

A friend who sends a voice note.
A neighbour who pops by with cookies.
A candlelit dinner where no one wears sequins and everyone brings a story.

Wintering well doesn’t have to mean withdrawing completely. It can mean choosing gentle connection over performance. Intimacy over expectation.

Your Wintering Toolkit (Small Things That Matter)

Here are some of the things that are helping me stay grounded this season:

The Daily 3-2-1: Three things I’m grateful for. Two things I’m curious about. One way I can make today easier.
A candle in the kitchen while I cook.
Woollen socks and a hot water bottle at my desk.
A therapy lamp by the window.
A stack of books that feel like comfort.
The sound of nothing. (Or of my family laughing.)

These aren’t revolutionary. But they’re enough to anchor me. And that’s what wintering well is about — enough.

A Different Kind of Self-Care

This time of year, we’re flooded with messages about self-care. But often, it ends up sounding like a shopping list of scented candles and self-help guides.

What if self-care in winter meant not doing more, but doing differently?

What if it meant:

Choosing quiet over hustle
Letting go of one tradition that drains you
Making space for rest, without apology
Listening to what your body (and your soul) actually needs

A Gentle Prompt for You

Here’s what I’m asking myself this winter:

What does it look like to winter well, just for me?

What if that doesn’t mean fixing anything, achieving anything, or even feeling festive?

What if it simply means honouring this season for what it is — and who you are in it?

If You’re Looking for Support This Winter…

Wintering doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.

If this season is bringing up emotional burnout, loneliness, fatigue or a longing to rest but not knowing how — this might be a beautiful time to explore support through coaching.

Together, we can: