Holdin’ On Through the Cold.
Ritual Ways to Feel Better When Winter Tryin’ You.
Books to Read After This…
Willow Weep for Me – Meri Nana‑Ama Danquah
A raw, breath‑snatching memoir that names Black depression with ancestral ache and a survival rhythm.
Owning Our Struggles – Minaa B.
Therapist wisdom meets community care—tools for healing with boundaries sharp as a switchblade and soft as a grandmother’s hum.
Soothe Your Nerves – Dr. Angela Neal‑Barnett
Science‑backed guidance for Black women managing anxiety, panic, and seasonal triggers.
The Unapologetic Guide to Black Mental Health – Dr. Rheeda Walker
Clinical and cultural—names systemic erasure and builds a healing plan with Black truth.
Sisters of the Yam – bell hooks
Emotional recovery meets political resistance—hooks ritualizes healing with soul and strategy.
How We Heal – Alexandra Elle
A gentle, journal‑based guide to trauma care, affirmations, and reclaiming joy.
The Descent Begins
Winter depression is real, but the way I move through it ain’t never been clinical alone. I ritualize my healing with light, rhythm, and ancestral clarity—not just what white academia names in those cold, sterile journals.
When winter hits, it doesn’t tap politely. It barges in like it paid rent, slamming the door behind it, dropping the temperature of my bones.
Some mornings, getting outta bed feels like I’m dragging myself up from the underworld—breath fogging, spirit heavy, heart whispering, “Not today.”
They call it Seasonal Affective Disorder—SAD—a subtype of major depressive disorder triggered by reduced sunlight and colder temperatures.
12.7% of folks experience SAD, while nearly 29% feel the milder winter blues.
Seasonal shifts disrupt immune responses and circadian rhythms, stirring emotional dysregulation like a pot left on the stove too long.
But my elders taught me:
Winter ain’t punishment.
Winter is initiation.
A hush.
A descent.
A test.
Where Science Ends, Spirit Begins
They will tell you it’s just serotonin and melatonin.
Winter is when the veil thins and the body whispers truths you been avoiding.
So I light my altar with intention—not just a 10,000‑lux lamp humming like a tiny sun.
Still, research shows light therapy can regulate circadian rhythms and improve mood faster than some antidepressants.
So I sit with that lamp each morning.
But I also sit with my ancestors.
Vitamin D deficiency is rampant in cloudy regions—up to 90% of folks lack it in winter. And yes, it’s tied to serotonin production.
But the sun ain’t just a star.
The sun is a living spirit.
I don’t just take supplements.
I make offerings.
I whisper gratitude even when the sky is gray and stingy.
Get KourtneyNicoleWrites ™ My Korner of the U-N-Iverse’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
That’s my ritual.
Movement as Spellwork
Gentle exercise—walking, stretching, dancing—can reduce depressive symptoms.
But I don’t just move my body.
I move my grief.
I dance to reclaim joy.
I stretch to release what’s stuck.
I walk to honor the land beneath me, the same land my people survived on when survival wasn’t guaranteed.
The Part They Don’t Name
They’ll tell you social connection is key to mental health—and they're right.
But they rarely name how isolation hits Black folks differently.
How systemic erasure, housing instability, and intergenerational trauma compound winter depression like layers of ice on a windshield you ain’t got the scraper for.
So I call my people.
I check on my elders.
I join circles that honor our rhythm.
And when the weight gets too heavy to hold alone, I seek professional help.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and medication can be life‑saving.
But I also seek spiritual counsel.
I ask my ancestors what needs to be released.
I built a plan that honors both science and spirit.
Consecration, Not Coping
Essential oils like lavender and lemon have shown promise in reducing anxiety.
But I don’t just diffuse—I consecrate.
I anoint my wrists with Florida Water.
I speak a prayer of protection over my spirit.
I breathe in intention, breathe out fear.
Positive self‑talk?
Yes.
Neuroscience shows it activates the brain’s reward centers.
But I go deeper.
I speak mantras layered with ancestral cadence:
“I am the daughter of those who survived.”
“My joy is a rebellion.”
“I am worth the ritual.”
Small Wins Are Sacred
I celebrate the little things:
Getting dressed.
Making tea.
Taking a deep breath without rushing it.
I make my home a sanctuary—warm lights, soft blankets, calming music, and foods that nourish not just my body but my legacy as well.
Because healing ain’t just clinical.
It’s cultural.
It’s spiritual.
It’s communal.
Winter Ain’t the Villain
Winter is a teacher, not a curse.
A season of shadow work.
A time to listen.
A time to remember.
And every time I rise—lamp glowing, ancestors humming, breath steady—I prove that even in the darkest season, my spirit refuses to dim.
© 2026 Kourtney Nicole Writes™. All rights reserved.
