It’s been a few years since I’ve had a case of the winter blues. The funk used to arrive like clockwork every November and be an unwelcome guest until February — four long months of unshakeable irritability, moodiness, boredom, and sadness. But since I left full-time work, the cloud over the winter season lifted. I even wrote about it, thinking I was in the clear.

That’s why the winter blues took me completely by surprise this year.

I didn’t feel it right away. My eat-at-home challenge in November was awesome. Vlogmas in December was fuuuuun. I started my deep cleaning challenge on January 1st and it was nice for a while.

Then, in mid-January, things got hectic at work. I started rushing through my daily self-care routine and skipping a bunch of writing sessions. I had more than enough to keep me busy, but I felt unbalanced and couldn’t seem to find my footing. In my downtime, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. I started feeling irritable, moody, bored, sad. The emotions have been persistent and unshakeable.

My theme this year is all about letting go, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what I need to release in terms of how I’ve been feeling lately. In the past, I’ve tried to push past the winter blues, wanting desperately to get back to the realm of bright and sunny days. It soon became clear that what I needed to gently release was exactly this desire to avoid sadness and chase happiness.

This season, I’m trying to sink in and explore my emotions to see what I can learn about myself. I’m still going through the ups and downs of sorting it all out, but here’s what I can share right now.

There’s tenderness and healing in aloneness, and also in loneliness. Being by myself hasn’t always felt good, especially in the past, when I had trouble separating aloneness from loneliness. In recent years, I’ve spent many early mornings bursting with joyful and inspired aloneness, without ever feeling lonely. When hubby was scheduled for a bunch of evening shifts this winter, I was looking forward to more of that shiny, happy, productive aloneness. There were so many things I wanted to do! Things didn’t turn out as expected, and I was perplexed when I spent most of those evenings feeling lonely, sad, and unmotivated.

Why did my aloneness feel energizing in the morning? And why did that same aloneness feel dull in the evening? Instead of making plans and filling up my time to avoid feeling lonely, I viewed my evenings alone as opportunities to carefully observe myself. Where did I naturally want to go? I knew I could easily distract myself by turning on the TV, reading, playing games on my phone, working, or catching up with friends, but I didn’t actually want to do any of those things.

Instead, I found myself watching old vlogs, searching for clips of Truffle. This cheeky little bunny was my furry companion for over 10 years, and we spent hours together every evening. Even when he was busy exploring and playing, he would still check in on me regularly by coming over to nudge me for pets. In his elder years, when he was too frail and tired to do his usual rabbity things, he would press his little body on the side of my leg or rest his tiny chin on my ankle. Towards his end, he never wanted to leave my side.

I’ve felt a deep emptiness since we said goodbye to Truffle, but the feeling is particularly pervasive when I’m alone at night. To be clear, there isn’t anything I need to do about this. I don’t feel like I need to talk about it, and I don’t want to avoid it. I’m simply allowing myself to go where the feelings want to take me, trusting that it’s part of the healing process. Above all, I’m grateful for the moments when I can sit in remembrance of our beloved furbaby.

Boredom and quiet contemplation can spark creativity. In my many years of trying to rush past the winter blues, I’d quickly make plans and busy my mind as soon as November arrived. My goal was to stop boredom in its tracks. This year, I tried something different — I cancelled plans and took things off my lists. I tried to sink into being bored and a magical thing happened. My creativity started sparking new ideas for my routine. There weren’t many sparks, but the ones that ignited revealed a few precious gems.

My favourite spark involved making time for regular Epsom salt baths again, which somehow led me to the discovery that it feels really good to edit parts of my book while soaking in the tub. My sweet new routine involves pulling up a chapter on my Google Docs app, reading a section out loud, focusing in on what I’m trying to say, and making tweaks to bring more clarity to my writing. This has become a nourishing weekly practice that never would have surfaced if I hadn’t allowed myself the space to feel bored.

Sadness is just part of the story. While it’s true that I’ve been feeling a little more blue this winter, that’s not the entirety of me. This season also has me feeling warm, cozy, and loved. I’ve had incredible bouts of belly laughs, mountains of delicious treats, bubbles of excitement, and moments of connectedness with the people around me. All of this can be present. All of this can be true.

As I reflect on what I’ve learned about myself this season, part of me actually feels ok that the winter blues stopped by for a surprise visit this year. I’ve realized I no longer need to fear it, and that it holds some comfort and familiarity for me. And I trust that I can find my way through, while unearthing some unique gems along the way.