Wintering as a Therapist: Five Things That Support Me

As I’m still navigating winter, her in the UK, I thought it might be nice to reflect on five things that support me during this season.

Currently I’ve been reading the book Wintering by Katherine May, it’s a gentle read with a beautiful slow energy reminiscent of winter. It’s part memoir, part cultural reflection, and part gentle philosophy about what it means to move through hard seasons in life. So, far I’m really enjoying the book.

Katherine May wrote it after experiencing several overlapping winters in her own life: illness, depression, career uncertainty, and the challenges of parenting a neurodivergent child. She noticed that everything in her culture told her to push through, the narrative was stay strong, stay productive, and keep going. But her body and her life were asking for something very different.

The book is built on the idea that just like the natural world has seasons, so do we. There are times of growth and outward energy, and there are times of contraction, rest, grief, and inwardness. Wintering is the name she gives to those latter periods.

And this is something I see all the time in my work as a therapist. People coming into the therapy room exhausted, not just from what they’re carrying, but from the effort of pretending they’re not in winter. From trying to perform spring energy when their system is asking for something much quieter.

The idea of wintering is that we are not meant to be the same all year round.
We are not meant to be endlessly productive, expansive, outward-facing beings.
We have seasons, just like nature does.

This is something I’ve really leaned into, over the past couple of years. I used to resent the changing of seasons from Summer to Autumn, and get excited about the return of Spring, which heralded the longer days and the increase in temperature. My lens through which I experienced winter was one of loss, cold, grey days. But something shifted, I now appreciate the way winter always asks something different from me, compared to other seasons.

I feel it in my body before I even really think about it. I’m slower, more inward, more sensitive. I’m truly grateful for this season. I thought it might be helpful to share five things I lean into during winter which support my desire for slowness and being more reflective rather than doing more or having an expansive energy, which is more present for me from late spring.

The first is walking in nature.
Even in the cold. Especially in the cold, to get me out of the house, as I find during winter, I enjoy not having lots of social plans, instead pottering around the house is so much more appealing. But for me a 45 minute daily walk is now a non negotiable, it doesn’t matter the weather, if it’s raining, I’ll stick my wellies on if its super cold, I’ll add bases layers and the thickest gloves I own.

Foe me There’s something about winter air that is incredibly refreshing and sobering, when I walk in nature especially I notice the beauty in the muted colours, fresh dew clinging on the grass, there are less people around and it almost gives me permission to slow down and enjoy the beauty I am surrounded by.

I just walk and let my nervous system remember that I’m part of something much bigger than my thoughts or my to-do list.

The second is going to watch live comedy.
I particularly love going during the colder months, for one it’s usually fully booked and there is something about watching live comedy with a full room of people. We’re all sharing this joyful space together. Also, winter can be heavy at times and there is a sense of seriousness, which gets lifted by going to comedy clubs. And comedy reminds me that lightness still exists. Sitting in a room with strangers, all laughing at the same moment, feels strangely intimate. It’s community without effort. It moves energy

As a therapist, I sit with a lot of depth of emotions and parts with my clients. A lot of pain. A lot of complexity. Comedy gives me contrast. It reminds my nervous system that expansion is still available alongside contraction.

And there’s something about winter evenings and warm rooms filled with laughter that feels especially nourishing.

The third is reading a book curled up on the sofa with a blanket.
I spent 2025 reacquainting myself with reading, and it brings me a lot of pleasure. I’m not on my phone, or switched on, instead again I can slow down, be present in the moment. It also allows me to escape into different worlds, experience emotions through others.

The fourth is a hot bath.
There is something so regulating about warmth and water. I love water, whether that’s swimming in the sea, sitting by the edge of a lake and watching the ripples across of the surface or immersing myself into a scalding hot bath filled with bath oils and Epsom salts. For me a bath is like a sanctuary, I feel held by the warmth of the bath, there is silence and my mind settles as my muscles relax. Sometimes I’ll light a candle sometimes I don’t – all that matters is that it is super hot and my family knows to not disturb me for an hour sometimes 90 minutes. I find myself gravitating towards baths during difficult periods in my life, after my miscarriage after the birth of my children and during winter.

And the fifth is good hearty meals.
Winter always makes me crave food that feels grounding. Food that has weight to it. I love a pie, lasagne, curries, warm stodgy food. Usually, it’s been simmering for hours and the smell permeates throughout the house, so it’s the first thing someone notices when entering my home. I host more in the winter, whether it’s playdates for the kids or friends over for dinner and I enjoy being able to cook meals for them, so that we are all feeling loved and nourished. For me food is a way to express my love for those I care about.

There’s something deeply regulating about feeding yourself well in this season. About saying to your body, “I’m listening. I know you need warmth. I know you need sustenance.”

What I love about all of these practices is that none of them are dramatic.
None of them are impressive.
There’s no productivity goal attached to any of them.

They’re quiet. They’re ordinary. And they’re deeply supportive.

Wintering, for me, isn’t about withdrawing from life.
It’s about meeting life more gently leaning into activities and connection so I feel joyful and grounded.