Permission to Winter

Finding the comfort in the dead of winter

I used to be afraid of the dark. Not just as a child. But as an adult too. I wasn’t afraid that the boogyman would get me, but instead, when the sun would set, I’d feel an inner cringe of loneliness.

Flashbacks of middle school come to mind. I see my younger self, maybe eight years old playing in my mother’s bedroom. Day light filled the room from the south facing windows. I was jumping on her burgundy flower patterned duvet cover—holding my stuffed animal, Coco. She was a monkey. I can’t see my face in this flashback, but there is a tone of joy and play.

Yet, the next image that flashes is night time. The apartment absorbs the darkness of the night sky. I see myself tucked in my small bedroom. Kneeling on the carpet playing house with my baby dolls, Molly and Jeff. Even though I am still playing, there is a tone of loneliness. I can feel my eight year-old self impatiently passing the time. Like the night time was this long, drown out intermission. I was waiting for the second act. For the sun to come back up and let the action begin again.

Thats’ one of the reasons I have a hard time with winter. The days are shorter and the nights are longer. More isolation. Longer intermissions. The night felt boring. Uninspiring. Flat.

But this year, my relationship to darkness changed. I didn’t realize it until we spent 10 days in Amsterdam this December. The sun rose around 8:40 am and set before 4:30 pm. The depth of the darkness felt so thick. Yet, life didn’t stop. People were still biking around. Groups of friends were going out to dinner. People were running in the park and heading to 8 pm yoga classes. Life felt vibrant in the dark. The warm lighting in apartments filled the streets with a gentle glow. The local brown bars and restaurants were filled with people snuggly packed into tables. Candle sticks on top of wine bottles loaded with weeks worth of wax filled the place. The darkness felt cozy and warm. As the Dutch say, this is Gezelligheid.

I was surprised to notice I wasn’t sad when the sunset. I didn’t feel lonely. I didn’t feel like I was waiting for daylight to come. Instead, the soothing warmth of the twinkling lights and candle stick glow created a cozy invitation for me to feel held. Time felt still. It felt sacred to navigate the darkness through candle light. I couldn’t tell if it was 5pm or 10pm so my analytical mind had to take a back seat and just practice being present and ride the evening waves. My body got to lead. The soothing ambiance made my nervous system feel safe. She got to lead her way through the evening, activating her internal spidey sense the way an octopus gracefully moves through the ocean floor.

Returning back to the Pacific North West in the depth of Winter, I was faced with the same sort of darkness. Yet, the cozy ambience wasn’t culturally embodied. Instead it felt cool. Individualistic. My husband and I would create our own cozy vibes indoors with candles and warm string lights tucked in a glass jar to create a magnified glow. We use our sauna almost nightly to enhance warmth. We’d get in bed around 9pm and sink into the fluffy comforter for a deep nights sleep. I let myself feel the gifts of this season and truly “winter.” I noticed I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. Instead I was excited for it. It felt healing to slow down and sink in.

What do you notice about your relationship to the dark? To winter? What ways do you giver yourself permission to be in this season? Share your thoughts with me below.