Hard Times: On Wintering and Renewal

During my 40s, it seemed like I experienced a spate of bad years—from family members dealing with health problems to financial struggles. And with each new year, I would mentally implore fate to be kinder and gentler in the upcoming months. It wasn’t until the conclusion of the first year of the pandemic (when I was about to kick off my penultimate year as a forty-something) that I finally realized I was only hurting myself to expect no bad or hard things to happen over a 12-month period. Life is about all the things that happen (surviving and adapting), learning from the positive and negative, and knowing that you need both spring’s growth and the rest and retreat that come with winter. 

From Hard to Falling Apart

At that point in my life, I hadn’t yet learned that wintering couldn’t and shouldn’t be avoided. We all need the dark periods, and we need to embrace our discomfort at times. I also came to realize that everyone is dealing with something. And my efforts to hide my struggle weren’t helping me or fooling anyone else. Then 2024 happened and my life went from a normal “hard things sometimes happen” to an “everything is falling apart” catastrophe. Let’s just say the events that ended the year were not on my bingo card of choice. 

While I was emotionally preparing for my only child to leave for college, which was difficult but not a surprise, the realization that my marriage was faltering slowly came into focus. Becoming an empty nester was expected, but the end of my marriage was looming in a way that I hadn’t anticipated. My kid leaving also meant the loss of a buffer and a distraction that I had overused to ignore the cracks in my relationship with my husband. And then my father died. It was a lot. 

Individually, each is a major milestone, one that can put anyone into a tailspin. When all three happen within less than six months of one another, it was definitely time to take a moment and breathe. Which I did. 

I also did a lot of talking—to friends, acquaintances, my therapist, my favorite grocery store clerk. I cried, and I slept. I walked and ran. I ate, and I didn’t eat. I read and I read—good literature, trashy novels, and nonfiction on grief and loss and wintering.

Discovering the Power of Wintering

Wintering. That spoke to me. I love winter. I love the cold, I love layers. I love fires and candles, soups and bread. I liked the idea of giving into the season and slowing down. A friend gave me Katherine May’s Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. I was in the thick of difficult times, and all I wanted to do was rest and retreat. Not only did she help me name the urge I felt, but May also gave me the confidence to realize that I was instinctively doing all I could to find my way through. Despite feeling out of control, I still possessed the power to heal and learn and become stronger.

May leads readers through each month, highlighting her efforts to transform through rest and retreat. She finds that wintering is inevitable. It happens to everyone, sometimes more than once. May recommends preparing as animals do for the colder months. This can mean you:

• Pursue quiet pleasures, such as cooking, coloring, or reading
• Continue to move, even if it means just short, slow walks)
• Embrace sleep as a means to not just restore but also to reflect
• Engage in rituals that mark and celebrate the dark times while still preparing for light
• Remember that both happiness and sadness are skills
• Accept that you aren’t invincible but that the hard times will pass
• Share the wisdom learned during your wintering with others

The Strength That Comes From Wintering

Now, I’m not suggesting that I am fully on the other side of all these hard things. But I’ve made progress. I know that I don’t need to be stronger. Too often in the past I associated strength with doing things on my own. Who knows what this new year will hold. I wouldn’t even dream of trying to guess, because one thing I know to be true is that no matter how much I try to anticipate and prepare for the hard stuff, there’s no shortcut for making it through. So, I will keep talking and reading, sleeping and moving. And now I know that I must ask for help along the way, and that doing so is strong.

Your wintering may look different—your soul and body may need entirely different things. You may try one thing and find that it works for a while, and then it doesn’t anymore. So you find something else. What I do know is that if I listen to my body and my mind and my heart, I will find a way forward through these seasons. Fate may never choose to be kinder or gentler, but I don’t expect it to be anymore, nor do I need it to be. 

Cover image generated by Drew Green with Midjourney