Hello, Winter
Winter feels like nature’s invitation to pause. The world slows, wrapped in frost and bare branches, and I feel that same pull inward. This is the season of stillness and quiet transformation, a time to honor the space between endings and beginnings.
As the darkest days of the year fade and we inch closer to the winter solstice, I’ve been reflecting on this past year—its lessons, its wins, and the moments I’d rather forget.
Earlier this year, my husband and I took a big leap. We sold our house, quit our jobs, and left our life in Austin to move back to Virginia, closer to family. People tell me, “That’s so brave!” but honestly, it didn’t feel like courage. It just felt right.
We were lucky to be held in that transition—living with Nick’s parents for six months while we figured things out, found jobs, and eventually landed in a house just down the road from mom and dad. It wasn’t something we ever planned, but here we are.
By fall, we moved into our new home, just in time to settle in before winter arrived. It’s been a smooth transition overall, yet I’ve struggled to let it feel that way. There’s been this disconnect—between my mind and body, between what is and how I see it. I keep noticing how much I resist change, clinging to old patterns even when I know better.
I felt called to leave the noise of the city, to find more peace, more space. My nervous system was practically begging me to go. And now I’m here, surrounded by the quiet of the Appalachian Mountains, feeling both held and unsteady. It’s been transition after transition, and my body keeps asking me to slow down, to listen.
But slowing down can be scary. I’ve been scared to sit with what’s inside, scared to feel what my body’s been holding on to. Still, little by little, it’s coming out.
And as I reflect, I see how much I have to be grateful for:
A warm home that feels like ours.
A partner who’s been by my side through it all.
A new community where I can start to grow roots and share my gifts.
The permission to not have all the answers yet.
Winter is showing me it’s okay to rest. I don’t have to push or strive. I’ve spent so much of my life in survival mode, but now? I’m learning how to simply be. To pause. To trust that this slower season is part of the cycle of growth.
As a bodyworker, I’m always helping others release tension and reconnect with themselves. This winter, I’m committing to do the same for myself. I’ve signed up for a 12-week program in Applied Polyvagal Theory in Trauma-Informed Yoga, a chance to deepen my connection with my own body and learn new ways to show up for myself and others.
I’ll also be stepping away from social media for a 12-week break. It feels like the right time to disconnect and focus inward. If you need me, I’ll still be offering bodywork at the Ritual Spa or in-home sessions—but otherwise, it’s rest season for me.
Winter has a way of teaching us about life’s cycles: growth and rest, light and dark, endings and beginnings. There’s no rush to bloom before spring. Right now, it’s enough to pause, breathe, and tend to what’s ready to grow next.
As we move through this season, I invite you to reflect, too. What lessons are you carrying with you from this past year? What seeds are you planting in the stillness of winter?
Here’s to the beauty of slowing down and the quiet growth it brings. Wishing you warmth, peace, and connection this season. I’ll see you on the other side.💚✨