Embracing December’s Dual Nature

I’ve always loved the month of December.  There’s so much going on.  You’ve got the holidays in full swing, the seasonal change from fall to winter, and the culmination of a year.  It’s a perfect time for self-reflection and noticing the small everyday tasks you’ve accomplished. You may have achieved some big successes or small steps of healing; both are equally something worthy of a celebration.  

But for me, the month of December has always brought some emotional baggage along with it. I get feelings of comfort and ache, softness and sadness, nostalgia and heaviness, it’s a whirlwind.  I feels so connected to myself this time of the year, but I’m also more aware of the emotions I’ve avoided or pushed down.  I think that’s the thing about December it slows down just enough that your inner world begins to speak a little louder. 

The Warm Side of December

I’ve always been a fan of the fall-winter energy—the crisp air, the earlier evenings, the way the cold mornings feel refreshing.  To me, there’s nothing like stepping outside and feeling the chilly air against my skin, the wind brushing my hair, and the warmth from my beanie. It’s all very nostalgic. 

I have so many wonderful memories of visiting our family cabin in Big Bear.  To see the snow falling was like was magic happen right before my very eyes.  It was a rarity that I got to see snow, so I would always soak up every minute of it.  I remember days of sledding, sipping hot cocoa by the fire, and making a hearty soup on the stove.  Those are the days I’ll always cherish.  

December feels like home to me.  It’s the kind of peace I crave all year.  

The Heavy Side of December

But December isn’t always comfort for me.  Sometimes it carries an unbearable weight sadness, guilt, confusion, loneliness, self-doubt, uncertainty, anxiety—all of it.  I’ve felt it more times than I’d like to admit.  The same season that brings warmth and nostalgia can also stir up the kind of reflection that feels like it hits harder this time of year. 

Some days, I notice my mind replaying old memories, regrets, or what-ifs, and it’s easy to feel overwhelmed.  Even the cozy rituals—the hot cocoa, the candles, the quiet moments—can’t always keep the heaviness at bay.  It’s a season that reminds me how deeply I feel, and that sometimes, feeling so much all at once can be exhausting.

But I’m learning that this heaviness isn’t something to fight or hide.  It’s just part of the season, part of me.  And just as I cherish the warm, magical moments, I can also acknowledge the difficult ones.  Both exist in December, and both are valid.

My December Self-Care Ritual: Stirring Comfort Into a Pot

On the days when the heaviness creeps in, I find myself in the kitchen. Cooking has always been grounding for me — a way to stay present when my thoughts feel scattered or heavy.

So, here’s a recipe I make every December, especially on the days when I feel everything a little too deeply.

Cozy Minestrone Soup: Why this soup feels like December

It’s hearty without being heavy, nourishing without being complicated, and somehow tastes even better on cold, quiet nights. This is the soup I turn to when days feel overwhelming or when December heaviness creeps in. The soft beans, tender vegetables, and steamy broth make me feel whole again.

It’s the kind of soup that is nostalgic for me. I remember having it on rainy nights, nights where I was sick, or when I needed a little extra comfort.

Here’s my favorite version—simple, cozy, and perfect for those winter nights when you need something warm to hold onto.

This December, I’m Learning to Embrace Both

-The warmth and the heaviness.
-The nostalgia and the grief.
-The comfort and the ache.
-The softness and the sadness.

For me, December doesn’t ask me to be cheerful every second of every day.  It just asks me to be myself and feel my feelings.  To honor the parts of me that feel cozy and at peace, and the parts of me that are tired, overwhelmed, or silently hurting.  Let December hold all of the bright parts, the quiet parts, and the parts that still ache. 

“Winter has a way of softening the world—and reminding me to soften with it.”

Unknown