Mind Your Mellow: Because Winter Doesn’t Get to Steal Your Joy
A few days ago, I wrote about rolling into 2026 with intention- about chasing joy and choosing what lights us up and letting that joy guide the shape of our days.
That is still my vision for the year ahead but today in this moment, on a Sunday afternoon before the stress of Monday calls I want to proclaim that I believe winter deserves a pause. January deserves rest, not resolutions or socially prescribed hustle. January needs sleep, hot coco, fuzzy pj’s and a plethora of quite reflection.
This time of year has never been kind to me, my friends or many of my family members. Winter in Maine without asking and settles in slowly, dimming the light, quieting the world and asking more of the body then it often has to give. The days are shorter, the cold outside is borderline painful, my thoughts blur at the edges. Brain fog thickens. Patience thins. Some mornings, even the smallest routines feel heavier than they should.
There are days when I catch myself wondering how something as simple as brushing my teeth became such a negation.
If you’ve ever felt that shift—the way winter changes your internal weather—you’re not imagining it.
Living in Maine means less sunlight, lower vitamin D, and for many of us, a familiar dance with seasonal affective disorder. Add anxiety into the mix and winter can feel like moving through deep water: everything slower, everything requiring more effort.
For a long time, I thought this meant I was failing winter.
Now I’m learning it means winter is asking for something different.
Joy Doesn’t Vanish. It Needs Safekeeping.
Eat. Stay. Wheel. has always been about joy—how we notice it, chase it, create it, and share it. That part hasn’t changed.
What has changed is my understanding of what joy requires when the season is heavy.
If Eat. Stay. Wheel. is the act, and the art of the joy chase then Mind Your Mellow is the method. It’s how I’m learning to protect joy instead of demanding it show up on command. It’s a practice of self-awareness, of listening for what’s underneath the fatigue and irritability, of choosing care before depletion.
Mind Your Mellow is not about fixing yourself. It’s about noticing yourself.
This is the quiet beginning of that work.
From an early age we are taught that we should be able to function the same way all year long. As if seasons are decorative. As if bodies don’t respond to light and dark.
But winter rewires things.
Energy shifts. Focus softens. The margin for stress narrows. None of this is a moral failure. It’s biology. It’s nervous systems doing their best in a low-light season.
Winter doesn’t ask us to push harder.
It asks us to listen better.
Some days, joy looks like movement: a short roll outside, a scenic drive, a change of air. Other days, joy looks like staying home, wrapped in warmth, letting rest be enough.
The kind of care that sustains joy in winter rarely looks impressive.
It’s sitting by a window and letting what little light there is find your face.
It’s warm food that grounds instead of restricts.
It’s soft clothes, familiar music, scents that signal safety.
It’s asking What do I need right now? instead of What’s wrong with me?
These are not grand gestures.
They are acts of steadiness.
Winter joy doesn’t shout. It whispers. And it requires us to slow down enough to hear it.
November, kicked off a forced stay in due to a deer/car debacle and although that situation was scary and stressful I’m not mad about it, the time in has been a time of rest, reflection and yes, joy!
I used to think staying meant I was falling behind.
Now I understand it as a form of self-trust.
Staying with myself.
Staying honest about my own personal capacity.
Staying rooted in what feels sustainable instead of chasing what looks productive.
This is where Mind Your Mellow lives—in the pause, in the noticing, in the decision to protect my peace. If winter has been heavy for you, I want you to know this: you are not broken. You are not lazy. You are not failing at joy.
You are simply in a season that asks for more care.
As you move through the days ahead, here’s a question to sit with—not to answer immediately, but to return to gently:
What would it look like to protect my joy this winter, instead of pushing myself to prove it’s still there?
If that question stirs something in you, that’s where Mind Your Mellow begins. Not with a plan or task list but with awareness—and the permission to choose care.
Mind your mellow. Find peace in the pause.
* If you or someone you know is having a mental health crisis, or feeling emotional destress know that you are not alone, 988 can help. Calls from Maine are answered in Maine, so you will talk to someone who can help you get the support you need close to home.