When the Seasons Change

Caring for ourselves through the darker months

By Joanne Jonna, MA, LPC

There’s a reason our hearts feel different when the seasons change. It’s not weakness, it’s rhythm. As the days get darker, our bodies slow down too. The holidays can bring joy, but they can also overwhelm and bring stress. In Chaldean homes, this season is full of warmth and family, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. Many people find themselves pushing to stay okay when what they really need is a little space to rest and reset.

As the temperature drops and schedules fill, we often feel torn between wanting to keep up with everything and the body’s natural urge to slow down. It can feel like we’re caught in between, a kind of limbo that’s hard to sit with. The sun goes down earlier, our motivation dips, and even small things can start to feel heavier. These changes aren’t personal failures; they’re reminders that we, too, are part of nature’s cycle.

I feel it too. When the holidays arrive, there’s this mix of joy and pressure — wanting to make memories for my kids, manage work, and keep everything running smoothly. I’ve learned that sometimes the best gift I can give my family is a calmer version of myself, even if that means saying “no” or doing a little less.

Have you felt the winter blues creeping in yet? I start to notice it when I’m driving home from work and it’s already dark, or when I have to push myself a little harder to get out the door in the morning. The “winter blues” are more than just a mood. As sunlight fades, our bodies produce less serotonin — the chemical that helps regulate happiness and calm — and more melatonin, which tells us to rest. That shift can leave us feeling sluggish, sad, or unmotivated. For some, this pattern becomes Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a form of depression that follows the rhythm of the seasons.

Understanding this helps do away with any shame. What you’re feeling isn’t laziness or weakness—it’s your body and environment working together. Knowing that can help us respond with care and compassion instead of criticism. This is where self-compassion matters most, by treating yourself with the same understanding you’d offer someone you love. You can practice it by giving yourself permission to rest, noticing when you’re being hard on yourself, or simply placing a hand on your heart and saying, “This is a hard moment, and I’m doing my best.” Small acts of kindness toward ourselves build strength from the inside out.

And while these changes affect everyone differently, our culture adds its own layers to how we experience them. In the Chaldean community, the holidays often mean large gatherings, shared meals, and a deep emphasis on generosity and hospitality. These are beautiful traditions, but they can also bring pressure. Many of us feel we “should” be happy, grateful, and social, even when we’re tired, grieving, or simply overwhelmed.

That tug-of-war — wanting to feel thankful but feeling drained — can deepen sadness or guilt. We might tell ourselves, “Others have it worse,” or “I should be fine.” But emotional health isn’t a contest. We can appreciate what we have and still admit when it’s hard at the same time.

Therapeutic tools like Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) offer a balanced way to move through the season. From DBT, we learn the idea of “both-and” thinking — the ability to hold two truths at once. You can love your family deeply and still need quiet time. You can feel grateful and still feel sad. Both can be true. Accepting that mix takes away the pressure to perform emotionally and makes space for something more real: calm, honesty, and peace.

From ACT, we’re reminded to reconnect with our values — the things that truly matter to us. Ask yourself, “What’s most meaningful to me this season?” If your value is connection, that might mean calling one friend instead of hosting a big dinner. If your value is faith, maybe lighting a candle, saying a prayer, or attending one service is enough. Small, meaningful actions that match our values are far more healing than pretending everything’s okay.

When motivation is low, our minds need a bit of structure that feels doable. Start small. Step outside for ten minutes in the morning and feel the light on your face. Take a short walk, stretch, or move your body when you can. Plan one thing to look forward to each weekend — something simple, like cooking a new dish or visiting someone you love. Setting small, realistic goals helps build momentum. Progress doesn’t come from big leaps; it comes from steady, gentle steps that remind us we’re capable.

We all carry different parts within us — one that wants to celebrate, another that feels tired, another that misses someone we’ve lost. Instead of pushing those parts away, we can listen to them with kindness. Ask yourself, “Which part of me is speaking right now? What does it need?” Just as our faith teaches us to show compassion to others, we can offer that same grace to ourselves. Letting those parts have a voice — even the quiet or sad ones — helps us feel more grounded and whole.

Our culture already gives us ways to heal, if we slow down enough to notice them. Faith practices — church, lighting candles, quiet prayer — can help us recenter. Cooking dolma or kubba connects us to memory, meaning, and belonging. When we gather around food, it’s more than a meal — it’s love, continuity, and comfort. Family doesn’t have to mean perfection or constant togetherness. Sometimes it just means showing up in small, genuine ways. The familiar smells, laughter, and conversations remind us that even in darker seasons, light still finds its way to us.

If this season feels heavy, remember — you’re not alone. Try one small act of self-care: step outside, take a slow breath, or sit quietly with a warm drink for a few minutes. Healing rarely happens in big moments; it grows through small, consistent kindnesses toward yourself. Even a tiny light — the morning sun, a kind word, or someone reaching out — can remind us that brighter days always return. Reaching out to a therapist, faith leader, or trusted friend can bring a little more light into this season — one gentle step at a time.