The Resistance

For years, I fought winter. Every November, as the days grew shorter and darkness crept in earlier, I’d feel myself withdrawing. Hitting snooze repeatedly, dragging through afternoons, questioning why I couldn’t maintain the same energy I had in summer. I tried everything: extra coffee, early morning gym sessions, forcing myself to “push through.” But my body kept whispering the same message: slow down. That’s when I started exploring winter wellness rituals: gentle practices that work with the season instead of against it.

Last year, something shifted. Waking up in darkness, commuting to work in darkness, returning home in darkness. It felt suffocating. I found myself dreading mornings, feeling groggy well into the afternoon, wondering if I’d ever feel properly awake before spring arrived. That’s when I received a Lumie lamp as a gift, one of those sunrise alarm clocks that gradually fills your room with warm light before you wake.

I’m not exaggerating when I say it changed everything.

The first morning I used it, I woke naturally before my alarm. Something that hadn’t happened in months. No jarring sound pulling me from sleep, no lying in the dark negotiating with myself about whether I really needed to get up. Just gentle light, growing brighter, coaxing me awake. Now, even on the darkest December mornings, I open my eyes to warmth. The lamp has become my anchor, the small ritual that makes winter mornings feel possible rather than punishing.

And it made me wonder: what if winter isn’t something to fight? What if these darker months are an invitation to move differently, to rest more, to align with rhythms we’ve been ignoring?

The Science of Slowing Down

Lately, I’ve been organising my life around circadian rhythms. Our body’s internal clock that governs when we sleep, wake, and even when we feel hungry. It turns out this clock is exquisitely sensitive to light.¹Duffy JF, Czeisler CA. Effect of Light on Human Circadian Physiology. Sleep Med Clin. 2009;4(2):165-177. Division of Sleep Medicine, Harvard Medical School.

When winter reduces our exposure to natural light, several things shift: our bodies produce melatonin (the sleep hormone) earlier in the day, leaving us drowsy when we should feel alert. Serotonin (that feel-good brain chemical) may drop, affecting mood and motivation.²Harvard Health Publishing. Shining a light on winter depression. September 30, 2024. For some people, this becomes Seasonal Affective Disorder; for others, it’s just a persistent heaviness, a sense that something’s off.

Research from Harvard Medical School suggests that even modest light exposure in the morning can help reset our internal clock. Around 10,000 lux from a light therapy box, or simply stepping outside.³Harvard Health Publishing. Light therapy: Not just for seasonal depression? October 28, 2022. My Lumie lamp serves this purpose beautifully, but I’ve also started opening the curtains immediately upon waking and, on mornings when I’m home, taking my tea onto the terrace. Even grey winter light is brighter than you’d think. Far more potent than any indoor lighting.

It’s not about forcing myself to feel summer-levels of energetic. It’s about working with my body’s response to the season.

Winter Wellness Ritual: Morning Light

I used to think morning routines had to be elaborate. Journaling, meditation, green smoothies. But I’ve learned that the most powerful rituals are often the simplest.

Now, my winter mornings look like this: I wake to gradual light from the Lumie. I lie there for a few minutes, just staring at the white light. It’s invigorating. Then I open the curtains fully, even if it’s still quite dark outside. I make tea (lately it’s been ginger and turmeric, warming and grounding).

Most mornings, I step outside into the garden. No phone, no Outlook calendar. Just presence.

I stand there, usually with cold bare feet on the patio tiles. Sometimes I wear wool slippers, sometimes I don’t. I quite like feeling the cold; it wakes me up. I wrap this pale pink wool blanket around me, from The English Wool Company. A present, and now one of my favourite things. I just stand there, hands wrapped around my mug, watching my breath fog in the air.

I love the quietness of the morning. Everyone else is still asleep, the world hasn’t started yet. Quiet mind. It’s the only time of day that feels entirely mine before people start getting up, before the day begins demanding things from me.

On days when I commute, I try to walk at least part of the way, letting natural light reach my eyes. It’s not always comfortable, but it matters. Even fifteen minutes makes a difference in how I feel by afternoon.

Nourishing Winter Rhythms

I’ve also noticed how my body craves different foods in winter. Raw salads feel unappealing; instead, I want warmth, comfort, slow-cooked meals. Rather than resist this, I’ve started honoring it.

Breakfast has become porridge with cinnamon, walnuts, and stewed pears. Grounding, gently sweet, satisfying. Lunch is often soup or roasted root vegetables. Dinner might be a slow-cooked stew with warming spices: ginger, turmeric, cumin. These foods feel nourishing in a way that summer meals don’t.

There’s emerging research on chrononutrition. The idea that when we eat matters as much as what we eat. I’ve written about this before, exploring how eating in harmony with our body’s clock can support our natural rhythms.⁴Vow of Peace. Ayurveda and Chrononutrition: Eating in Harmony with Your Body’s Clock. https://vowofpeace.com/ayurveda-chrononutrition-meal-timing/ Eating breakfast within an hour or two of waking may help reinforce our circadian rhythm, signaling to our metabolism that it’s daytime.⁵Harvard Health Publishing. Why your sleep and wake cycles affect your mood. May 13, 2020. I’ve found this to be true for me. Even a small breakfast (tea and toast, a bowl of porridge) seems to anchor my energy for the day.

I’ve also been more mindful about vitamin D. Living in the UK, I simply don’t get enough sunlight in winter to produce adequate levels, and research suggests that many people at northern latitudes are deficient during the colder months.⁶Harvard Health Publishing. Vitamin D and your health: Breaking old rules, raising new hopes. September 13, 2021. I take a supplement. 2,000 IU daily from October through March. It’s one of those small, simple interventions that I genuinely believe makes a difference. Harvard health experts recommend 600-800 IU for most adults, though some people may need more based on individual needs.⁷Harvard Health Publishing. New guidelines released for vitamin D testing and supplementation. November 1, 2024.

Evening Darkness as Medicine

If morning light is essential, evening darkness feels equally important. Yet most of us flood ourselves with bright light and blue screens well into the night, confusing our bodies about what time it is.

I’ve started dimming the lights around 7pm. Switching off overhead fixtures, lighting candles, using only lamps. The shift in atmosphere is immediate. The evenings feel softer, slower, more spacious. There’s research showing that blue light from screens can suppress melatonin, though the effects seem to depend on the person.⁸Harvard Health Publishing. Blue light has a dark side. July 24, 2024.

With my Lumie, my body tends to shut down around 9pm. It just completely gives up, physically and mentally. I don’t try to push through anymore. In my household, we call staying up late for the sake of it “protesting.” Claiming back your day when you’ve been working for someone else all day. I’ve stopped protesting. When my body says it’s done, I listen.

Well, I’m learning to listen. I still struggle with this. When my body starts shutting down at 9pm and I have a million things I want to achieve, it’s difficult to say no, that will have to wait until tomorrow. When I haven’t finished all my chores by that time, I find myself wanting to push through. But I’m getting better at recognising that tomorrow-me will be more capable than exhausted-9pm-me.

Instead, I read. Actual books, on paper. I journal. Sometimes I just sit with a cup of tea, normal English breakfast tea, doing nothing, letting my mind wander. It feels countercultural, this deliberate slowness, but it also feels necessary.

The Permission to Rest

Here’s what I’m still learning: winter asks us to rest more. Research from Harvard suggests that humans may naturally need more sleep during winter months, and suppressing this need can contribute to fatigue and mood disturbances.⁹Harvard Health Publishing. Shining a light on winter depression. September 30, 2024.

I’ve stopped fighting this. If my body wants to sleep an extra hour, I let it. If I need to say no to evening plans because I’m genuinely tired, I do. I’ve realised that rest isn’t laziness. It’s wisdom. Why do we expect ourselves to maintain the same pace year-round?

I’m not suggesting we all become hermits. But perhaps we can move a bit slower, say yes a bit less, turn inward a bit more. Perhaps winter is teaching us something important about rest, about limits, about the necessity of dark, quiet seasons.

Creating Winter Sanctuary

Our environment shapes how we feel more than we realize. I’ve started paying attention to how my space feels during these darker months.

I open curtains fully during the day, letting in as much natural light as possible. I’ve added a few soft textures. A cashmere throw on the sofa, wool cushions, a thick rug. Small things, but they create warmth.

These aren’t extravagances. They’re small acts of care that make winter feel less stark, more inhabitable.

Finding Your Winter Wellness Rituals

I won’t pretend winter is easy. There are still mornings when the darkness feels heavy, when I wish for longer days and warmer light. But I’m learning to see this season differently. Not as something to endure, but as an invitation.

Winter teaches us about rest, about limits, about the necessity of turning inward. It reminds us that we’re not machines designed to produce at the same rate year-round. We’re cyclical beings, responsive to light and dark, to warmth and cold, to seasons of growth and seasons of quietness.

The rituals I’ve shared (morning light, warm foods, evening dimness, gentle movement, extra rest) aren’t prescriptions. They’re simply what I’ve found helpful as I’ve learned to move with winter rather than against it. Your body may ask for something different. The invitation is to listen.

I’ve stopped worrying about whether I’m “doing winter right.” Instead, I’m learning to trust that if I honor my body’s rhythms (if I give it light when it needs light, rest when it needs rest, warmth when it craves warmth) something deeper begins to shift.

Perhaps that’s the real work of winter: learning to be gentle with ourselves in a season that asks us to slow down.

What winter rituals have you discovered? I’d love to hear what helps you move through these darker months with more ease and grace.