Wintering Within

Embracing Life’s Coldest Seasons

What if the cold seasons of our lives aren’t here to break us, but to slow us down and help us remember who we are?

It got really cold here in Sydney. By really cold I mean 16 degrees that feels like 10 because of the icy winds. I had to fetch a puffer jacket and a beanie from my wardrobe. And remember, I’m already wearing a wig, which is kind of a second hat. But after almost a decade of living in Australia, I’ve gone soft. I remember years ago laughing at people in Portugal wearing boots when it was 15 degrees. Now I totally understand. And not only understand, I feel for them.

A friend saw me today and couldn’t recognise me. I looked like I was ready for a skiing trip.

“You usually wear shorts.”

I know, I know. But these winds are killing me.

I’ve noticed the change in my mood. I want to be held. Give me my red wine, hot stew, and comfort blanket. I even made my first-ever apple crumble today. It almost felt like there was no warning. One day, I was wearing my sun hat, my two-year-old splashing in the ocean, and the sun felt like summer on my skin. And then yesterday, I woke up to a new reality where it was all robbed from me.

It reflects the current state I’m in. I wish I could say more, I don’t want to be cryptic. There’s nothing worse than someone hinting at something but not telling you exactly. But all I want to say—and believe me, it’s the most important message—is that I’m in my winter season of life. Life really is like this. You live in your little bubble until someone or something bursts it for you. Life, God, the Universe, or whatever you want to call it.

I’ve written about it before, but a part of me is not afraid of hardship. Maybe because I know there’s no way to avoid it in life, no matter how many times you try to jump above it or circle around it. Life is not Mario Kart, you know. We’ve got just this one life. And even though I’m not afraid of it, I don’t welcome it with open arms either. There’s respect—I’m not going to screw with you energy. Hardship humbles us.

Lately, I’ve thought about how, in my everyday life, I can be so precious about things. Before becoming a mother, one bad night, and you didn’t want to see me, I was hardly functioning. But now? Give me one good night, and I’ll write a chapter for my book, go for a run, clean my whole apartment, and all of it in a couple of hours.

I can also whine about a runny nose for a week, until something more serious kicks me, and then suddenly I become highly productive. It’s a weird paradox. But I wonder: why is it that I need a wake-up call in life to move my ass? What if I could have that kind of resilience in my everyday life? I wonder what I would achieve. And I’m not even talking about being busy or doing-doing—but more like: who would I be?

I’m currently reading a book about Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May. The author describes wintering as periods of difficulty, isolation, and low energy. I’m only 20 pages in—too early to say whether I’ll like it—but I really like the concept. It makes me feel that even though this phase of life can be lonely, and even though you can have all the support in the world, you are still alone in it. It’s deeply personal. And still, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that there are people somewhere out there wintering with you.

This book has made me think about my little theory. I believe people who come from colder climates are naturally more resilient. You have limited sunlight, and preparing for the colder times is something already programmed into you. And yes, most people don’t need to chop wood or preserve food anymore, but we still face that cold, dark time, which is not for the faint-hearted.

When I lived in Estonia, I didn’t mind. I liked how it made me more internal. November asked you to pause. You were cut off from people as they stood at the bus stops, eyes peeking between their warm hats and woollen scarves. You were forced to go within. And that’s where the answers come.

Maybe we don’t need to be afraid of the dark, the cold, and the winter season of life. Even though you can be surrounded by sunlight and warmth all year, which is still true when living in Sydney, you can’t escape your inner winter. If anything, when you are going through your inner winter, the sun can feel like it’s laughing in your face, completely oblivious to the cold you are feeling inside.

So, tell me—what season of your life are you in right now, and why?