A Love Letter to Your Winter Self

a guided journaling invitation

Winter after the holidays can feel slow, still and empty. This can allow space for rest and self care- but can also be an opportunity to perseverate on all we SHOULD be doing or improving about ourselves. It doesn’t help that there are several billion dollar industries praying on us at this time. Gym memberships! New skin care regime! New year, new you! I hate it alllllll.  But what if, instead, this season is inviting you to soften toward yourself? To meet yourself not with critique or a 100 shoulds but with warmth and curiosity?

Think of this post as a little invitation. Asking you to pause and place a seed of love for yourself into this potentially fraught time.

Here is the ask: write yourself a love letter. I know for some you heard a loud NO inside your head (maybe even out loud). But stick with me. This is not an invitation to write a perfect love letter, a disingenuous love letter or anything you have to share with anyone else. Just a letter that is honest, kind, and rooted in the truth that you are worthy of care, exactly as you are right now.

Step 1: Schedule

Look at your schedule and set up a meeting in  your calendar- 20 to 60 minutes if you can spare it. You make time for others every day, you can do this for yourself. If it feels helpful, enlist an accountability buddy to also do it at the same time or check in with you afterward. 

Step 2: Settle In

The time has come! Find somewhere cozy. Wrap up in your favorite blanket. Light a candle, brew some tea, or cue up your comfort playlist. Create a space that feels like exhaling. Now, grab your journal or open a fresh document. At the top, write:

“Dear Winter Me,”

Congratulations you have completed the hardest step: starting!

Step 3: Begin with Noticing

Start by describing what life feels like right now. You don’t need to make it sound pretty. Maybe you’re tired, stretched thin, or emotionally frostbitten. Maybe you’re content and calm. Write it as if you’re catching up with an old friend:

“Dear Winter Me,  I know you are tired. This feels weird, right?. You are trying new things and showed up for yourself.”

This is where you practice compassion over correction.

Step 4: Acknowledge Your Body

Instead of focusing on what your body looks like, try thanking it for what it does:

“Thank you, ears, for hearing the music I love. Thank you, hands, for helping me write this. Thank you, eyes, for seeing...”

Your body is not a before or after picture. It’s your home. Let’s give it credit for what it objectively provides for you. 

Step 5: Offer Comfort

Write something you need to hear. Something you might say to the 5 year old version of yourself reading this:

“It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to snack or feed your body. It’s okay that not everything is growing or changing right now, you’re not supposed to be.”

This is an example of how you can start to re-parent the parts of yourself that may need gentle love.

Step 6: Close with Hope

End your letter with a promise—something small, sustainable, and kind:

“This winter I promise to go to bed 5 minutes earlier.”

“This winter I promise to eat the rainbow every week.”

“This winter I promise to tell a friend when I need help.”

Fold the letter. Keep it somewhere close. Read it when you need it.  

If this kind of self-reflection feels good, therapy can take it even deeper. It’s a space to keep building that gentler voice inside, the one that believes you deserve care without conditions. If you’d like to explore that together, reach out. Let’s talk about what it could look like to give your whole self — body, mind, and heart — the warmth it deserves this winter.

Warmly,

Miriam