On Wintering

Happy New Year, friends—nearly a month late, I know. Time is always a funny thing, but January especially seems to move at both a snail’s pace and lightning speed. The holidays feel like they were over months ago now, yet, if I wasn’t keeping up with the calendar, I might guess it was only just the first week or two of the year.

We’ve entered the depths of winter here in Indiana in recent weeks, with wind chills well below zero degrees and layers of snow and ice that continue to grow taller and taller. I’m giving in this year, to this hibernation period, taking advantage of the slower months in an attempt to reset and put pieces of myself back together ahead of the coming seasons.

I haven’t minded the perpetually gloomy skies all that much this winter—which seem to have moved their way in sometime in mid-December and decided to stick around indefinitely. Usually I find myself aching for the sun after more than a few days in a row of the grayness, but I’ve welcomed the weather’s consistency and the feeling of coming home to a warm, cozy bubble at the end of each frigid, hectic day.

We left our Christmas decor up a bit longer than usual, until mid-January, because the warm glow of the lights and the sentimental ornaments, cards, and memories felt extra comforting this season… an added layer of protection between us and the sheets of ice and snow outside our door.

That being said, over the last several days, the sun has peeked through the clouds every once in awhile, especially around sunrise and sunset, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been drawn to following whatever rays I can find streaming through the windows as they come. These moments of soaking up the golden light have been brief, but are growing more frequent—and that, along with the days getting longer, I gladly welcome, too.

While our holiday decorations are now tucked away into their bins until next Christmas, I opted to leave some generally wintry pieces out for the next few weeks. I always appreciate a more gradual transition away from the holidays, and think a few lingering evergreens, wreaths, and string lights are perfectly acceptable to leave as long as feels right.

I’m trying to keep this mindset when it comes to myself, too. Gradually transitioning back into routines I’ve fallen out of, relationships I’ve neglected, and things I’ve put off for the past few months. Moving at a pace that feels right. Reminding myself that everything in nature moves a little slower in the winter, especially those in the process of healing wounds. Some living things disappear altogether to protect themselves and build up the strength they need to reemerge come spring.

Quite frankly, I hope to maintain a slowed pace all year round. As someone who has always felt like my value, worthiness, and level of being loved depends on doing as much as I can, as fast as I can, as perfectly as I can, for everyone all the time, truly “wintering” has been a foreign and sometimes uncomfortable concept. One I’ve had to learn to embrace. But I’m very much beginning to understand how necessary it is for putting ourselves back together and keeping ourselves whole—staying well from the inside out.

While my mind was telling me I could continue going at my normal pace since August, my body was screaming for my attention, attempting to warn me that I couldn’t. I spent almost the entirety of August through December battling one kind of sickness or another, running purely on caffeine, stress, and depersonalization, and ended 2024 with absolutely nothing left in the tank. Only in these first weeks of the year, unplugging from it all, have I started to feel like myself again.

So, in case you, too, needed this gentle reminder: sometimes, doing nothing is doing something.

I’ve revisited Wintering, one of my favorite books about rest and retreat, a few times over and highly recommend it if you’re in a season like this as well. And more recently, I’ve enjoyed reading others’ takes on the “art of doing nothing.” This philosophy is more about doing things without specific goals or intentions in mind than literally doing nothing. About living in the present, letting go of busyness, perfection, and the need to always be “on.” It’s in that space that we can truly connect with ourselves, in the ways we need most.

I hope your year is off to a restful, introspective, and inspiring start, friends. Keep wintering, for as long as you need.

—Aly