The Cozy Cure
The Unofficial Guide to Making It Through Winter
The bell rings, and Ms Leam rests against her desk. A dim ray of daylight finally pierces the grimy windows. She wiggles her toes, a feeble attempt to shift the damp sock to the side, cold water clinging to her skin. Her stomach rumbles, and she remembers the now cold, limp piece of toast left on her passenger seat. The staffroom's acrid instant coffee did nothing to ease the hunger. Her bones feel cold, the kind of cold only a hot bath can fix. It’s only the beginning of the academic year, and the season has just shifted, a thought that fills her with a quiet dread. Her Year 10 class begins to trickle in, and she does her best not to appear as though she wants to cry.
Leah finds her seat and spends a minute trying to squash her padded coat onto the back of the chair. She wishes the school had lockers, but at least she’s warm. The residual heat from her morning cuppa still sits in her belly. With pride, she pulls out her new pencil case and her currently uncreased workbook, carefully labelled with "Maths, Ms Leam" in a teal gel pen. This year, she’s going to work hard; she’s getting her GCSEs. She has a plan with her dad: when she gets home from school, they both change into joggers, her feet nestled in worn bunny slippers, and settle in at his desk. Her dad plays his records and is available for questions, but mostly they work in companionable silence. Leah alternates between her coloured gel pens, her Dad tapping at his keyboard, until dinner is ready. She complains for form, she is a teenager after all, but she loves this time together.
Ms. Leam and Leah’s experiences show us how deeply the seasons can affect our daily lives, from the professional to the personal, often in the details. One week we're basking in sunshine, and the next we’re wrapping a coat around ourselves, gazing skeptically at the clouds. That happened in the UK this last week; the season has shifted. Windows are closed, jumpers are rescued from the back of cupboards, and everyone remembers the simple joy of soup. Soup is good.
For many, the dark nights bring anxiety. There’s a quiet worry about long, still evenings, fewer distractions, less productivity, and a deep exhaustion that settles in for months. The countdown to Christmas begins early, and for those who don't celebrate or have negative memories associated with the holidays, having to face tinsel and Christmas pudding from September is exhausting. This isn't just a feeling; our bodies and minds are responding to a real shift in daylight and routine, impacting vitamin D, circadian rhythms, and causing, for some, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).
Self-care has become a buzzword and is often shared as a cure-all. We know that self-care isn’t the answer to winter. We can’t cancel winter. We can’t stop the darkness from seeping in or the cold from nipping at your toes, but instead of allowing the dark to envelop us, we can find pockets of comfort. This is where self-care can help.
Consider what might work for you:
Get outside. Walk, skip, jog, roll, or simply rest on your back step. Breathe that crisp air.
Go to the beach. There’s something extra special about crashing waves and the chill of the wind, especially if a hot coffee follows it, but any space in nature will do.
Invest in a good winter coat. Being warm alleviates a lot of misery. If you can't afford one, layer up!
Get cosy. The same goes for blankets on the sofa and the bed. Think warm and inviting, and maybe skip the overhead "big" light.
Nourish yourself. Food is a big part of how we live, and warm, hearty winter cooking and baking is a lovely way to care for yourself and others... did I mention I love soup?
Find a hobby. If you like to be busy, consider clubs, groups, volunteering, or new hobbies. Online groups can be a great option for living in a rural area.
Get creative. Winter is a great time to prepare and create. For writers, artists, researchers, students, and crafters, these quieter, slower days can be very productive. Make it comfortable and cosy; tea and chocolate are my go-to! If you are not creative, then maybe you are a planner?
A Word for Our Young People
Getting up for school in the cold, trekking to the bus in the damp, dark drizzle to do hours of maths and physics is dire. Add in a PE class where teachers in long, padded coats tell you to stop shivering and run faster, and it’s no surprise they are looking and feeling a bit miserable.
Now, ideally, school would start a bit later, provide a warm breakfast, and give permission to wear slippers. But as schools don’t have the resources to offer these comforts…
Plan breakfasts. Something that requires little prep but is nourishing is key. There's a commute, three whole lessons, and a break before lunchtime.
Source warm outerwear. If possible, ensure they have a decent coat and shoes that don't absorb the nearest puddle. They might not be top of your teens’ list, but it’s better than damp socks and freezing toes. Vinted can be a great place for quality second-hand items.
Offer treats. No one is too old for treats. Nice highlighters for revision, a mug of tea with their homework, or a snack tucked away in a pocket can make a big difference. Modelling and teaching self-care supports resilience.
Go out! A walk, a car journey, or a trip to a coffee shop (or for bubble tea!) is a great way to entice a little conversation and show you care about their life.
For Professionals Working With Young People
Depending on your setting and mode of practice, consider both heating and ventilation, offering hot drinks, snacks or providing cushions. Whilst therapists in particular are keen to support neutrality and not impact the relationship by ‘rescuing’, no one can work if they are cold, hungry and damp, so thinking about ways you can support or signpost young people who need help here is key. You can also model self-care; cuddle a cushion, take a blanket to keep warm, and move the chairs closer to the radiator. Create a space to switch off or engage in simple tasks like colouring or games, I find these are often taken to more in colder months.
I’ve spent years hearing people's stories of winter struggles, and what I've learned is that the most powerful antidote is not a grand gesture, but a series of small, consistent acts of kindness towards ourselves. From a hot mug of tea to a moment of quiet, these are the moments that build resilience.
🍃💛 Reflective moment: As you move forward, I encourage you to find a small warm gesture for yourself. What might that look like today?
Whether you are reading as a professional, a parent or someone interested in therapy, I would love to hear your thoughts and reflections. Please share a comment or message.
Until next time,
💛🌿 Helen
If you’d like to support my work or are interested in learning more about working therapeutically with young people, you can:
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