I’m Just Not Winter Material

One of many gray winter days in Western PA.

I’m Not Winter Material - I’m Just Not

If you know me, you know this about me: I have a deep affection for all things warm and sunny. I love hot weather and long days. From the time I was old enough to remember, I have loved the carefree spirit of summer and warm days.

As a teen, going back to school in the fall hit me harder than it seemed to hit my peers. As a mom, I dreaded my kids heading back each year. Although the routine and structure was a nice change of pace, saying goodbye to lighter clothing, looser schedules, warmer temperatures, and all that daylight was hard for me. Summer, for me, has always been my soul season.

So Many Gray Days in Western PA

Cold. Clouds. Rinse. Repeat.

I’ve tried to tolerate winter. I really have. With the cold temps and the gray sky - days upon days - void of any sunshine, it’s freaking tough. Why so many clouds?!?

I’ve spent plenty of weekends skiing with my boys, convincing myself that if I’d just embrace cold weather, I wouldn’t hate it so much. I cope by cleaning my house like it’s my job. I tell myself that a spotless space will somehow offset the fact that I hate leaving it from November through at least March. I’ve reframed. I’ve powered through. I’ve told myself to appreciate it.

I’m done faking it.

For me, winter just sucks.

Although I’ve never been formally diagnosed—and I don’t say this lightly—I’m pretty sure I check a lot of the boxes for Seasonal Affective Disorder.

For a long time, I chalked it up to preference. I just liked summer better. But over the years, the winter months have become more of a struggle—lower energy, heavier moods, and a mental fog that seemed to arrive right on schedule as the days got shorter.

What Seasonal Affective Disorder Actually Is

Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t about being dramatic or “bad at winter.” It’s a type of depression that follows a seasonal pattern, most often showing up in late fall and winter when daylight drops off.

The simplest way to explain it is this: our brains are deeply tied to light.

When daylight decreases, it can disrupt serotonin, the chemical that helps regulate mood, and melatonin, which affects sleep and energy levels. Less light can also throw off our internal clock, making it harder to feel awake during the day and ready to rest at night. The result can be a slow, creeping heaviness—mentally and physically—that feels out of proportion to what’s actually happening around us.

What makes SAD tricky is that it often hides in plain sight. People who are busy, capable, and used to pushing through don’t always recognize it for what it is. We still get up. Still show up. Still take care of everyone else. We just feel… dulled.

And because it arrives gradually, it’s easy to miss.

Why High-Functioning People Often Miss It

Many people who experience Seasonal Affective Disorder aren’t curled up on the couch unable to function. They’re parents, professionals, caregivers, and do-ers. They keep their routines. They meet deadlines. They might even convince themselves they’re fine.

But under the surface, things feel harder than they should.

Motivation drops. Joy feels muted. Everything takes more effort. And instead of asking why, many of us assume it’s a personal failing—or that this is just what winter is supposed to feel like.

It isn’t.

Luckily, I’m also a fighter. I’m not going down without swingin’.

I’m scrappy by nature and I refuse to be a victim of anything—including my birthplace. Once I understood what was happening, my mindset shifted from “why does winter do this to me?” to “okay, what helps, and how do I work with it instead of fighting myself?”

How I Handle It - I’m Doing ALL The Things

Basement miles still count.

First, I have to move my body.

This starts in my basement - most mornings, you can find me cranking out 30 minutes at a max incline with a 25lb weighted vest. It’s not glamorous but it does the trick. A lot of days, I start off cranky and I don’t want to do it. I tell myself, “Just ten minutes.” And by the end of the ten minutes, I’m watching a music video with Lainey Wilson, Keith Urban, Brooks and Dunn, Bon Jovi…I could go on and on. The music therapy kicks in and I hit the 30 minute mark.

Old School Workouts Work.

Beyond my basement, I hit some hot yoga classes. The 90+ degrees, the music, the breathing, the focus - it all helps to lower my cortisol and chill me out. I also hit my local workout studio, BelieveN-U. Here, I’m able to connect with other folks and feel less isolation.

Heat, breath, and movement.

Red Light Sauna Therapy (Especially During Cold Snaps)

Another tool I have really embraced this winter is an infrared sauna with red light therapy. When winter really tightens its grip—especially during those brutal cold snaps—it helps.

I keep the temperature around 150 degrees, put on music, and let myself sweat. It’s warm in a way that sinks in deep. My body relaxes, my muscles loosen, and my mind finally quiets down. It feels like I’m doing what my body and mind need.

Between the heat, the light, and the music, it’s a full reset. I walk out feeling lighter—physically and mentally. Whether it’s flushing out toxins, easing tension, or just giving my system a break from the cold, it helps me feel more regulated and grounded when winter is doing its worst.

Sweat therapy.

Getting Out (Even When I’d Rather Stay Home)

This one is hard for me.

In the winter, getting myself out the door feels like a much bigger task - like really big. I’m fine in the mornings—up, dressed, out the door for work. But once I’m home for the night or it’s the weekend, the idea of getting ready again can feel almost impossible.

The layers. The cold. The effort. It all feels heavier than it does in the summer.

But I’ve learned that isolation makes everything worse. So even when I don’t feel like it, I try to say yes to invitations. I make it a point to do the inviting. And it doesn’t have to be big plans. I just need to get out. And every single time I push past that initial resistance, I’m glad I did.

Winter may slow me down, but it doesn’t get to cut me off from the people who make me feel like myself.

Making Plans (Even If They’re Not Right Now)

One of the ways I keep winter from stealing my joy is by making plans.

Between my two favorite apps—Ticketmaster and Southwest—I get my travel and live music lined up. I research places I want to go. I look ahead at the upcoming concert scene. I build little pockets of anticipation, even if they’re months away.

Proof that the sun still exists.

The plans don’t have to be immediate to matter. Just knowing something is on the calendar shifts my mindset. It reminds me that winter is temporary, that there are longer days ahead, and that joy is still coming—even if it’s not here yet.

Planning feels proactive. It gives me something to look forward to, something to aim toward, and something that pulls my focus forward instead of letting it spiral inward.

The Point Isn’t to Love Winter - Because That Ain’t Gonna Happen

The point isn’t to suddenly love winter or pretend it doesn’t affect me. I know I’m not the only one who struggles when the days get short. I can’t possibly be the biggest wimp out there.

For me, this has become less about analyzing why winter feels hard and more about doing something to make it better. I don’t know how many PA winters I have left in me. I know I will always want to be close to my kids, but the winters here get harder for me each year. Maybe I’ll become a “snowbird” flying south for the winter but keeping a home base here.

My happy place…

For now, I’m looking for the light.

The sun light.

WHERE. IS. IT??

If you feel like this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your experience — leave a comment or share this with someone who gets it.