By Claudia Caramiello 
The bustle of the holidays is over. Twinkling lights have been taken down, ornaments packed up, and grandparents have flown home. College students are back at their dorms, starting a new semester. The novelty of new gifts has worn off, and New Year’s resolutions may have already been broken. Days are short, weather is brisk, and the months feel both long and blurred together.
Often, a melancholy pang of mourning hits me when another year is gone, and I feel anxious for what the future holds. My kids are growing, parents are getting older, and everything is changing. I want to stop time, but also fast forward to spring when the world is warm, sunlit, and teeming with life. But this is my time to pause, and if I do it right, it will be a time for me to learn.
I like to call this my informal season. It may not be my favorite time of year, but it has purpose. The less I resist, the more I am able to nestle into the cozy nook of wintering, allowing myself an intermission to reflect, and then grow. I will not fight off the uncomfortable silence, or hush my sad feelings away, but use this time to cocoon myself in the dimly lit days and find slices of warmth, light, and peace.
Wintering can look different for everyone. For some, it may look like shutting out the world and finding calm contentment in a pile of good novels. Or maybe it’s easygoing evenings eating comfort food and playing board games with your children. Perhaps it’s practicing self-care rituals such as a new skincare routine, then finding solace curled under a thick blanket and watching familiar Golden Girls reruns.
For me, wintering is about acceptance, stillness, and finding a warm safe refuge to cushion myself when I start to feel anxious. Often, when my heart is pounding, and my thoughts are racing, I desperately want to distract myself from my feelings. This usually looks like doom scrolling, Amazon shopping, or taking an occasional benzodiazepine. While these things aren’t necessarily terrible in moderation, they’re certainly not an ideal solution, and they don’t address the deeper disquiet of my feelings that I spend so much time trying to squelch.
Somehow, self-reflecting makes sense set against a wintry landscape. The world feels like it’s reaching inward, leaning into the quietness, and I want to follow its lead, burrowing into my soul and temporarily retreating into my little corner of the world.
Typically, I wouldn’t do this in the warm weather. Although I prefer summer (for me, it’s my active season), it’s not conducive for the self-awareness and rumination I want to work on. The informality of post-holiday winter begs for a little inner work. Sunsets at 4:30, snowy weather, cozy pajamas, Earl Grey tea, and an evening of journaling is the perfect antidote for addressing my anxiety.
As I plan my wintering journey, I know facing my negative thoughts and emotions won’t be easy. I know staring at a blank page in my notebook and asking myself, “what am I really anxious about?” may feel daunting. But I also know that growth, change, and hopefully, some inner peace will be worth it.
by Emily Waletich 
by Caitlin Van Hefty 
