Wintering: Finding Your Way Through the Darker Months

Why winter can feel harder when you're grieving

Summer has come to an end, yet in many countries, “wintering” starts much earlier than we might imagine. In Wintering, Katherine May talks about how in Norway, wintering can begin as early as July. Here in the UK, we start to notice the evenings drawing in, while still having those teasing glimpses of sunny days and blue skies, just with a cooler air.

We aren't quite ready to put the summer dresses away and bring out the winter jackets, but gradually the signs of the new season appear. Sandals are replaced by socks and shoes. Rosé is replaced by red wine (in my house), the winter duvets come out and the lighter summer covers are put away.

I have to admit that, much to my own surprise, I have started to feel a little excited about autumn. I have found myself thinking about those crisp October mornings when the leaves have turned yellow, orange and red.

Westonbirt Arboretum, a personal autumn treat, becomes covered in carpets of colour, surrounding an incredible collection of trees, some of which have travelled all the way from Japan. While I might sound rather joyous about the change, there is also some apprehension.

You are reading the words of someone who has lived in the sunshine. I once lived on a tropical island where sunshine was a daily occurrence, even between the tropical rainstorms. But now I am in the UK, Wiltshire to be precise.

I have come almost full circle, back to the place where I grew up - you could say the next-door village. I have travelled a little this summer, but I have also had that lovely feeling of looking forward to returning home.

Why winter can feel harder when you're grieving

So why the apprehension? Because winter can have an effect on many people, including some of my clients. There is less daylight, and it can become harder to get outside, see people, keep active and maintain your spirits. When you are already dealing with grief, that weight can sometimes feel even heavier.

This is why I have been thinking about the idea of wintering - not simply getting through the darker months, but finding ways to embrace them.

Winter can be a time to slow down. Go to bed a little earlier and curl up with a good book. If you are grieving and your concentration has disappeared out of the window, don't worry - skip the book. Perhaps have a long, spoiling bath with rose essential oil, something I personally find particularly comforting.

Grief can be exhausting, both emotionally and physically, and for some people, needing more rest can simply be part of their experience. That's OK.

Everyone's grief is different, and there is no single way that grief should look.

Finding comfort in the season

There is also something lovely about what autumn gives us. In the fields, hedgerows or perhaps your garden, there are sloes, damsons, apples and pears waiting to be picked. Take a stroll and collect some. Make sloe gin for later in the winter or for Christmas, and raise a glass to someone you love.

Sloe gin always reminds me of my Pa. This was the time of year when he really began to decline, and we spent more time in Wiltshire helping to care for him. We would go for walks and, of course, pick sloes to make the gin, which we then drank at Christmas.

I know Christmas might be the last thing some people want to think about right now, but I like to think my Pa approved. He was included. We raised a glass to him and, in some small way, he was still part of Christmas.

You could make damson jam, assuming you haven't eaten all the damsons first - which I certainly wouldn't blame you for - or collect apples and pears to make applesauce or pear purée to start your mornings. There is something grounding about using what is around you, making something with your hands and then enjoying it afterwards.

Make your home somewhere you want to be

Winter is also a good time to prepare your home and make it somewhere you want to spend time. Create a cosy corner for yourself, perhaps near the fire, or reclaim a corner that has been neglected. Somewhere you can sit without your phone or laptop and have some time away from the online world.

Or perhaps create a space for your mat if yoga and movement are your thing - more on this another time.

Clear through those cobwebs - my apologies to the haymaker spiders who seem to increase in volume by this time of year - and tackle those corners you've been thinking about for months. You never know what you might find. It could be a photograph, a letter or something that belonged to your loved one.

Sometimes a memory appears at exactly the moment you needed it, almost as though they are quietly saying, I'm here. You haven't forgotten me.

Give yourself permission to cocoon

It can be hard when friends want you to do things because they are trying to help and make you happy, but sometimes you simply don't feel like having fun. There can even be a sense of guilt around that. Sometimes you just want to cocoon yourself away.

And if that is where you are, then cocoon.

There is no need to rush yourself through what has happened to your loved one, to you or to your family. Sometimes it helps to talk to a friend or seek support, while at other times you simply need to be with yourself and process what has happened.

For some people, though, the thoughts can become a lingering hamster wheel - the memories you don't want to remember, the conversations you replay, the things you wish you had done differently or the questions that never seem to have an answer. Talking these things through with someone who understands can sometimes help.

After a loss, it can also be very easy to slip into a routine that leaves you feeling stuck. It doesn't have to be a huge change. Start with one small step. Meet a friend for coffee, spend some time with family, make that sloe gin or damson jam, or perhaps take yourself away for a night or two.

Sometimes simply changing your surroundings can help break that feeling of being stuck.

Try something new

Grief can make it difficult to imagine doing something new, but sometimes the things that feel a little frightening at first can leave you feeling surprisingly uplifted afterwards.

We often wish we didn't have to make new connections through grief because, ultimately, the reason we are making them is because we have had to say goodbye to someone we love. But life does have a funny way of bringing new people and experiences into our lives when we need them.

It might be the book club you finally join, a bereavement café you sign up to, or a new hobby through a workshop: art, writing, gardening or something completely random, such as willow weaving. There can be something incredibly rewarding about watching your hands create something new.

And please don't feel guilty about getting under that rug and watching a cosy film. It could even be the film you watched together. Why not? Watching it again doesn't mean you are moving backwards. But if you know it is going to bring up feelings you're not ready for, choose something for yourself instead. Ask yourself, what would I like to watch?

Make yourself a hot cup of cocoa or, dare I say it, pour yourself a little sloe gin from your new collection!

The little things matter

As winter comes, I also think everyone deserves a little treat for the wardrobe. We want to feel warm and cosy when we venture outside, but we also want to feel good. If you can, treat yourself to a warm bobbly hat, a lovely coat or something that makes you smile when you put it on. And if you're watching your pennies, I'm a big fan of Vinted or a charity shop.

These little things can matter, particularly when you're also dealing with the administration that comes after someone dies. The paperwork we never wanted to deal with, the hours spent on the phone, the “please hold while we transfer you to the right department” and, sometimes, people who simply aren't sympathetic. It can add another layer of stress to grief when what you really want is the time and space to grieve.

So when winter comes, find the things that make you feel safe, warm and grounded. They don't have to be big things. Sometimes they are the simplest things that help us through the day.

My own wintering

I have started my own wintering. Yes, the gin making has started, apples and pears have been picked, and sauces and jams have been made (not gloating - I promise). Next, I think it might be some winter clothing that I deserve, because I am going to embrace this season.

I'm going to enjoy those walks to the pub, the roaring fires and catching up with friends, old and new. I'm going to do something new each month as I embrace winter and my new - or perhaps old - home.

This is where I want to be, and this is where I want to help other people through their grief.

You do find joy again, but it takes time. For some people it can take a year, for others it can take two, and for some it may take longer. Please don't panic or compare yourself to somebody else's timeline. You are where you are with your grief, and you are doing it at your own pace.

So perhaps this winter, embrace a little wintering. Rest when you need to, get outside when you can, make something with your hands or try something new, spend time with people who make you feel safe and allow yourself the days when you simply want to curl up under a blanket.

About Emily

Emily (Emy) Skinner is a grief specialist in the UK who also runs Women's Health Retreats in Spain. Emily provides gentle guidance, and tools to help rediscover joy again while never forgetting our loved ones we have lost. To learn more about upcoming retreats or book a private consultation, please contact Emily Skinner here.