3 reasons why midwinter doesn't suck

and noticing good things that make it suck even less

here and next

In the mean, lean days of January, I often feel a strange tension that sits in the my chest. It’s a tension of next and here.

The next tension is the yearning for Spring, not to be rid of the cold (I love the cold), but rather for the energy to make change happen. Will this be the year I start seeds in the basement that will be planted in the late spring and early summer? Will I go through the boxes that are labeled “memorabilia” and figure out how much are memories we want to preserve and how many we want to toss? Will I start taking 6am walks when it’s not freezing and slick (I love the cold, but I don’t always love the commute to the gym)? And so I play with the ends of my shoelaces and stumble through the dark to attempt some of these things now, because forward mobility feels like the right thing to do.

But the allure (and even need) to hit the snooze on all of this is draws me back in, because it’s just so damn dark, and my body feels more like a groundhog than it does a spring chicken at present.

Which leads me to the here tension. Here says stay put, stay cozy, wrap yourself in blankets and if you are going to do things, do them slowly. Do them at the pace of a winter’s body, a body that says "movement is good, but HIIT workouts were created by Satan and should be done by no Christian being” (I said what I said). Here is making a myriad of soups and allowing the boxes in the upstairs to continue to collect dust. Here has motivation in the present tense (a tense I struggle with). Today, here said that my body felt off, so the workout I had planned for today would need to be put off until tomorrow. So I am sitting, here, eating sweet potato chips and procrastinating making dinner for my family who will be walking through the door any minute and need me to pick up the banner again. And I will. Because even in this season, here eventually gives way to next.

grace for here

The fact is, it’s hard to get some of the things done that I’d like to get done. Some days my body aches so hard in the morning that the workout I planned needs to be postponed until later in the day. Some days I look at the lists I’ve made and realize I prioritized things all wrong, and have to reorganize my to-dos (and my perspective on them). I’ve been better at eating the frog, but sometimes the frog eats me. It’s fine. It’s one day. I can try again tomorrow.

I’m not trying to wax lyrical about being present in the present. Really I’m trying to tell myself that being present is the best thing I can do, anytime of the year. January teaches this to me every year, but this year I’m attempting to not be brutalized by it.

sam with his impressive snowman from 2023. we have yet to have a snow deep enough to make anything so far this year.

three good things

In being present, but also anticipating what is to come, I have three things that are making my January a little brighter. Being present doesn’t feel as much of an impossible task when I give myself the space to do these things and allow grace in the season of slow.

1. a fully decent sweat session
   I cannot get around it anymore. My neuro-spicy brain and its proclivity towards depression needs all the serotonin and dopamine it can get. Also, as I start to think towards what my health looks like as I mature, I no longer only think in terms of my bikini bod, but rather bone density. The days I go to the Y and sweat are good days. I listen to an audio book or one of the carefully curated playlists I have on Spotify and then I walk out into the breathtaking cold and allow sweat to crystalize on my face and freeze my nose hairs. It’s invigorating and it makes me grateful to have a body that still moves well even in rheumatic seasons.

2. a warm lunch

   It doesn’t always happen, but the days I can make myself a lunch that is warm is infinitely better than cold lunch days. The juxtaposition of eating something with steam rising off the top while looking out a window with frozen condensation makes me feel infinite pleasure. I eat slow, breathe deep, and allow respite from having to run in and out of the cold and whatever the day has brought me. Being mindful in these moments of my body and breath feels deep satisfying and I feel seen and cared for by a Creator that knows how to rest.

3. planning with blank space

   I did, in fact, buy myself a fancy planner this year which has given me a bit more oomph to focus on things that I’ve cared about for a long time but haven’t had brain space to prioritize. I looked for an analog planner because I’m an analog gal (hello, I’m a writer) and I wanted one that was intuitive and encouraged me to create new habits without shaming me when I don’t do them perfectly. I’ve purposely allowed myself a lot of blank space to remain blank—it’s grace space. It’s been helpful to begin to track habits, coordinate events, and just have a better grasp of what my family’s routines look like so I can see what is giving us life and what is taking life away. There’s no need to fill in every nook and cranny, but there’s space to dream. It’s a solid balance.

burning christmas trees at church for epiphany—another good thing. i joked that it was one of the more pagan traditions we have. not everyone got the joke.

one more good thing(s)

There’s something about coming out of survival mode that has made me feel like I’ve had heavy curtains on my eyes that were just thrown open and now all the light I couldn’t see (which is a good book btw) is flooding my brain and allowing me to truly appreciate things I used to fully ignore.

January feels a bit like survival mode, even when life isn’t horrific. It’s just so stinking cold and gloomy and it can settle into your bones. But the cold makes us all go slower, and when you go slow, you have the time to notice all the good. The soft puppy who curls up under my legs on the couch, the little person eating scrambled eggs in pajamas, the satiating sound of frost being scrapped off a window. Here are others I’ve loved as of late:

• drinking a ton of water after a warm shower

• wool sweaters and brushed cotton sweatshirts

• the sting my nostrils feel when I breathe the morning air deeply

• making a matcha at home with my new milk frother

• starting two new books and scheduling time to read them

• picking Sam up after preschool and kissing his cold, rosy cheeks

• waking up to a clean kitchen

• daytime naps in lots of sunlight with my warmed rice pad and a heavy quilt

• taking a magnesium cocktail before bed and sleeping like an absolute baby

• wool socks and hiking boots

• taper candles

• just enough snow to dust everything in beauty but not enough to be scary to drive in

There’s wisdom in planning, happily, for the future while sitting, contentedly, in the present. I hold them both with open hands. Here’s to naming what’s good.

Always,
Emily

P.S. Currently reading The Read Aloud Family by Sarah Mackenzie and Virgil Wander by Leif Enger. What are you reading? And more importantly, what tea are you drinking while you read?