At this time of year I find myself reflecting on the impact that the changing seasons can have on many aspects of my life. It is colder, and it is darker. I have to be more intentional about spending time outdoors as it helps with my wellbeing so much.
Energy levels are down. Effort has to be put into keeping the house warm and dry. The food I want to eat changes, so this is yet another adjustment to make. The switch that has to occur, both mentally and practically as we enter the winter months, requires a lot from me, and I am sure from many of you too.
There is little attention paid in our mostly urban – and I would say specifically Western – lives to the shift that is required. Very few of us will have attended a Harvest celebration, for example, which is a traditional way to give thanks for the safe collecting of the harvest and the nourishment it provides over the winter. Other traditional festivals of this time of year are in the minority or appear niche to many of us (I’m thinking here of things like ‘souling’ in Cheshire or Punkie Night in Somerset). But these festivals played an important role in the lives of our ancestors, and assisted in the move from summer to winter.
Be your winter self
There is an expectation that we will be able to bring the same energy to our ‘winter lives’ as we do to our spring and summer ones. Our workload doesn’t stop. Our children still go to their activities. On top of that, for many of us there are the pressures that the December festive period can bring. And we are doing all this, with less energy, and much of it in darkness. (Anyone who has had to leave their house after dark to facilitate their child attending a club will be able to identify with this feeling, I am sure).
So when there are so many things requiring our limited energy, why can’t we allow ourselves the grace and compassion of accepting that we are not robotic? Accepting that we have an animal’s brain that likes the idea of hibernating just as much as the next mammal (or my tortoise, Turbo)? Accepting the impact that the changing seasons has can lead to greater self-compassion.
We expect the same level of output at all times, regardless of seasons, or circumstances. When we inevitably fall short, we leave a space for the negative self-talk to creep in:
“I’m lazy”
“I don’t work as hard as other people”
“Why can’t I be better at all this?”
If this is a habit we have, from messages we have received about ourselves over time – maybe you heard these things from a parent, or a teacher – it can have a huge impact on our mood.
Changing the narrative
We have to actively choose a different way of thinking. We have to let self-compassion in. We need to change the narrative.
“My energy levels are lower right now, and that’s OK”
“Comparing myself to others will never work out well, I am me”
“I am doing the best I can with what I have”
Can you allow yourself the grace to move with the seasons? Can you reframe that voice that tells you that you are ‘less than’ if you aren’t achieving at a hundred miles per hour?
I will often joke that I come back to life in the spring, my energy levels regenerated after a quiet winter. I can notice the changes in my creativity and my mood. When I let go of the expectation that I can be my “spring” self all year round, I become able to enjoy the recuperation of winter.
Sit with this idea for a moment and reflect. What is the the impact that the changing seasons has on your mood? Could you change your expectations of yourself at this time to something more gentle and compassionate?
I shared a video a few years ago now about self-kindness and it’s importance to us. It can be found here.
My friend Lindsay Wright, a freelance writer and creative from Lancashire has some brilliant ideas for moving into the dark season on her blog here.