AUTHOR + ONLINE EDUCATOR

The days are shorter.

The morning light drags its feet, resistant to waking up.

The holiday momentum has slowed to a halt.

And somehow, without fail, the month of January always feels 4,528 days long.

Winter is the season when, for millions of Americans, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is in full swing. If you’re unfamiliar with SAD, it’s a type of depression that occurs at a specific time of year, usually in the fall or winter, when there is less natural sunlight. Symptoms often include low mood, fatigue, difficulty concentrating, and changes in sleep and appetite.

I didn’t always have a name for what I was feeling. For years, I just thought something was wrong with me in January. Why was I so exhausted? Low? Lacking motivation once mid-January hit? 

Technically, SAD can start as early as fall or even summer. But I think many of us mask the symptoms through the busyness and excitement of the holidays. For me, it’s typically right around this time of year that the sadness tries to enter. 

But the hopeful news? I’ve battled SAD for years to a point where I am now fully prepared for the winter months, and the effects are less and less each year.

It’s because I know what I am walking into. I prepare for the season ahead. And I’m now someone who embraces winter for all its beauty (I’m definitely not there yet with embracing summer in Georgia), even if it does make me feel a little more melancholy. 

Today I’m sharing some of the bits of wisdom I’ve foraged along the path of my winter mental health journey:

Make a Plan

When I battled through severe depression in 2014, a lot of those recovery months were rooted in winter. Winter is already a tough time for many of us. Add depression into the equation, and it can be so hard to do the basics like getting out of bed or putting on pants.

During those winter months, I created my first Battle Plan– a resource I am now proud to offer others, having lived out the material on its pages for ten years. I knew in recovery that I could no longer “wing it” with my health. I had to be deeply intentional, and that required a plan. You’ll find in the guide that the plans don’t have to be fancy or extensive– it’s a matter of small things on repeat.

Throughout that season, I had five daily action steps that I held myself accountable for. They were attainable and hinged on all aspects of my health – mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, and relational. I looked down at my plan and thought, “If I focus on these five things, then I will be the healthiest version of myself.”

If I were having an off day, I would review the list to ensure I was doing everything possible to stay healthy. 

If I were having an off week, I could often look at my battle plan and notice right away what I wasn’t doing – either isolating myself from the community or skipping a few days in my Bible reading. I would recommit to the plan and keep going.

Since then, I’ve created countless plans, and they’ve been lifelines and lifeboats to me at all different parts of my life– going through a friend breakup, continuing my recovery with depression, preparing for postpartum, and walking through loss. I’ve always had a grace-filled plan by my side because, if I’m being honest, I’m just not the best version of myself without one.

There’s power in having a plan, especially in harder seasons where you feel stuck or isolated by the winter. You may need a Winter Blues Battle Plan. The guide is easy to follow, and I would love for it to be a companion for you during this challenging and dreary season.

 

Follow the Seasons

Admittedly, this is a new one for me. Five years ago, you would have never come to this corner of the internet to hear the words, “Slow down. Take a rest. You’re okay.” I used to be a girl boss, a hustler to my core. And while I still love efficiency and productivity hacks, I’ve become more keenly aware of how the seasons of life require different approaches.

Last January, I didn’t set a single goal. I didn’t sprint into the new year. I decided to slow things down to a crawl, rather than feeling the pressure to keep up. And that decision? It is slowly but miraculously changing my life (and, surprise, I’m getting more done in the process).

I learned last year that the New Year originally began on March 25 until around 250 years ago. The ancient Roman calendar year had ten months, with March as the first month and December as the tenth. The government added January and February along the way. However, for practical purposes, the New Year still fell in March until the fall of the Roman Empire.

With spring’s arrival at the end of March, the seasonality of this older New Year feels more intuitive to me, especially compared to starting a running plan in the bitterly cold of January. If you’ve been craving slowing down but everything around you is yelling at you to keep up, lean in:

You can follow the seasons.

You can hibernate.

You can dream in the margins.

You can slow-simmer.

You can nourish yourself with soups, stews, and other warm, feast-worthy foods.

You can cut back on plans.

You can save the planners and plans for another month.

You can meet your body’s winter needs.

If everything inside of you is exhausted, that’s not a sign that you are broken – it might just be your spirit tuning into the things you need this winter: nourishment, quiet, stillness, rest, slowness, and all the other comforts that winter wears so well.

 

Keep Moving

I realize the irony in telling you to slow down and then, immediately after, giving you the call to keep moving. But I don’t mean hopping on the New Year’s treadmill; I mean honoring your body with movement, because it’s one of the most critical things you can do for your mental health.

Years ago, my psychologist at the time, who prescribed me Prozac, went on to tell me that working out for 45 minutes a day, five times a week, was the equivalent of taking 20mg of Prozac. She wasn’t saying that to negate the fact that I needed medication (and I still do), but that moving my body was important in my mental health journey. I think it’s the cornerstone for a lot of us. It might not be the favorite part of the day. You might dread it. But there hasn’t been a single time that I’ve moved my body and then regretted it afterwards.

During these cold winter months, we need to stay active. We need those endorphins, the mental boost alone that comes from movement. And this isn’t a call to buy a brand-new pair of sneakers or a whole new workout wardrobe; it’s simply a call to start where you are with what you already have.

YouTube is full of free workouts.

Peloton has strength training workouts that don’t require a bike for $12 a month.

Walking is free. If you live in an area where walking is impossible in these lower temperatures, then consider a walking pad. This is the one I use. I added this to my routine during the summer months in Georgia, and immediately, my 3-mile walks returned. I prioritized them in my battle plan, and I didn’t make excuses for not having them.

You don’t have to make this more complicated than it needs to be. Pair your walks with a podcast you love. Or morph them into prayer walks. Commit to a local studio if you know you need that extra accountability. Go back to what you love – if that’s barre, weight training, running, or yoga. Again: don’t make it harder than it needs to be.

 

Let the Light In

Speaking of the glowing reminders, I want to emphasize the importance of light during this season; however, you can get it.

Desiree Oostland, for Vogue, writes, “The internal clock is synchronized with the day-to-night rhythm via light; Only when the circadian rhythm is intact do we feel healthy.” That’s where we get our luscious supplies of serotonin and dopamine. But what about these shorter days? What about these bleaker forecasts? 

We have to improvise, friend.

We have to be ruthless with ourselves about bundling up and getting outside, whether we’re walking outside or sitting on the steps with our morning cup of coffee. The earlier the better. And opt for that natural sunlight instead of the deadening morning scroll before you’ve even gotten out of bed.

Another way to introduce light is through a therapy lamp. These are often recommended to individuals dealing with SAD. Light therapy involves exposure to artificial light, typically from a lightbox or lamp, that mimics natural sunlight. It helps you improve your mood and energy levels by regulating your sleep-wake cycle (the very thing that gets thrown off in these days with less light).

Just a few nitty-gritty details about light therapy: 

• Try to stick to the morning, sitting in front of your lamp for 20-30 minutes.
• Ensure the lightbox emits 10,000 lux and is free from UV radiation.
• Keep the lightbox 16–24 inches from the face without looking directly at it.

I’ve often paired my light lamp with my morning quiet time. I’ll sit with my bible and my journal and have the lamp on a desk or table in front of me. That way, I’m not looking directly at it, but I’m still getting the benefits while reading, journaling, and planning my days.

Here are a few options:

There’s this one.

Another great option.

This one actually resembles a piece of decor.

Another strategy I use in the winter months (and throughout the year) is using an alarm clock that simulates sunrise. It doesn’t compare to real sunlight on your face, but it is another way to get more light into your day-to-day life.

Here’s a budget-friendly option.

And here’s a splurge. 

 

Get Cozy

There will be those who wait for the winter months to pass and those who learn to fully embrace the season for what it has to offer. One of the things that, to me, is undeniably meant for these colder, darker winter seasons is the practice of hygge. If you’re unfamiliar, I wrote a whole post about my love for hygge over here.

Essentially, hygge is the love of coziness and a feeling of contentment. It’s blankets and pillows. It’s warm mugs and hot cups of soup. It’s togetherness and feasting. In a season where there is naturally less light, the practice of hygge isn’t afraid to lean into the reality with candles, low lighting, and lit fireplaces.

Hygge looks like baking cinnamon rolls in the oven.

Hygge is family movie nights wrapped up in blankets on the couch.

Hygge is warm baths and candles lit.

It’s inviting friends over for a game night, throwing something in the crockpot, and enjoying the company of one another as the kids play. 

I’ve found in my own life that winter has become much easier and something I actually look forward to, thanks to the practice of hygge. Something about digging in, rather than resisting, during these winter months has helped me transition from merely surviving winter to savoring it deeply. I now see winter as a season for reflection, rebooting, unplugging, gathering, slowing, and letting all the light in, however we can.

 

Go Where the Help Is

I want to make this undeniably clear, in as many formats and ways as possible, that I am the biggest advocate of going where the help is. You do not need to struggle or suffer alone. You do not need to prove yourself. You do not need to “just get stronger.” Please, if you are struggling in these winter months, tell someone.

Don’t expect that people will naturally know something is off with you. In this social media age, it is easy to hide (and I’m convinced that parts of us like the hiding), but you should not and do not need to battle the sadness or depression or the anxiety alone. That’s what your village is for.

Let someone in. 

Pick up the phone. 

Send the text.

My girlfriends and I do this naturally in our group text. Every once in a while, one of us will chime in and share where they are on the map. The rest of us quickly rally around them with encouragement and “been there” affirmations. And while these texts are never really cries for help, they’re a way of being vulnerable with one another, a way of saying, “Hey, this is where I’m at currently. 

I’m feeling sad…

The baby isn’t sleeping…

The sick season feels endless..

I need some reminders that this won’t last forever.” And that’s what we become for one another– over and over again: glowing reminders in each other’s darker times that nothing lasts forever. That this, too, shall pass.