Healing during divorce often mirrors winter in the natural world—a time of quiet transformation beneath apparent stillness. Katherine May captures this beautifully in Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times:
Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through.
When Winter Arrives—Literally
For many navigating divorce, this isn’t just metaphor. The holiday season brings a particular kind of quiet. Courts slow down. Lawyers and judges take time off. The flurry of filings and negotiations that once consumed every waking thought goes silent.
For those still mid-process, the inaction can feel unnerving—a case that demanded constant attention now sits dormant while life continues around you. For those whose divorces have finalized, the silence takes another form: a new home, perhaps unfamiliar, without the noise of marriage or litigation to fill it. The mind, finally free from crisis management, begins to wander. Some find themselves ruminating, even catastrophizing, without any immediate threat to justify the fear. The quiet that was supposed to bring relief instead amplifies anxiety.
The holidays can intensify this disorientation. Perhaps this is your first Christmas morning without your children, who are with their other parent. Perhaps you’re sitting in a new apartment that doesn’t yet feel like home, surrounded by boxes you haven’t had the energy to unpack. The contrast between the world’s celebration and your internal landscape can feel almost unbearable.
And sometimes, unexpectedly, the stillness shifts. Fear gives way. The rumination stops. You curl into the sofa, nurse your wounds, and let yourself simply be—not performing recovery, not proving resilience, just resting. Both responses are natural. Both are part of wintering.
Understanding the Natural Rhythm of Healing During Divorce
Like nature’s quiet preparation for the cold months, those experiencing divorce can learn to honor their need for withdrawal. The recovery process isn’t linear—it follows cycles, with periods of dormancy that feel like stagnation but are actually consolidation. Rather than resisting this season of retreat, we can recognize it as preparation for eventual renewal. Healing during divorce isn’t about forcing yourself forward—it’s about trusting the process.
Finding Permission to Pause While Healing During Divorce
Our achievement-focused culture pushes us to “move on” quickly—maintain a brave face, stay busy, prove we’re thriving. Yet winter calls for conservation of energy, not performance. When we grant ourselves permission to retreat and reflect, what feels like withdrawal becomes a source of strength.
Discovering Wisdom in Solitude
The divorce journey can trigger fears of loneliness—but intentional solitude is different from isolation. When we create space for quiet reflection, grief begins to transform. We rediscover an identity that existed before the marriage and will continue beyond it. We access reserves of strength we didn’t know we had. This isn’t about rushing toward resilience; it’s about allowing it to emerge at its own pace.
Honoring Your Pace of Healing During Divorce
One of the most radical acts of self-compassion during divorce is honoring your own timeline and process. Our culture often treats struggle as personal failure—as if you should be “over it” by now, as if your pain reflects something uniquely wrong with you.
But that story isn’t true.
Millions of people like you and me have walked this path and experienced fear, anxiety, depression, and loneliness—not because we failed at marriage, but because we are human. Being aware of this truth is what psychologist Kristin Neff describes as common humanity—the understanding that your struggle is part of being human, not a personal failing. Winter doesn’t keep a schedule. Neither does healing.
The Transformative Power of “Wintering” Through Divorce
Just as winter isn’t the death of the life cycle but its crucible, divorce can become a threshold to growth. Recognizing this season as temporary—trusting that we carry an innate capacity for renewal—allows us to stop fighting the cold and instead let it do its work. The same life force that pushes crocuses through frozen ground lives in you.
Embracing Your Healing Process
Consider creating intentional “wintering” practices: gentle daily rituals that ground you, boundaries around your energy and time, journaling or meditation, time in nature. Seek support from people who honor your pace rather than rushing you toward an artificial spring. Above all, practice radical self-compassion—the recognition that this struggle is part of being human, not evidence of failure.
If you’re drawn to explore wintering more deeply, Katherine May offers a six-week course called The Way Through Winter. The program includes guided meditations, journaling prompts, and creative exercises designed to help you navigate life’s frozen landscapes. Week by week, it moves from understanding your personal winter through metamorphosis and eventually to thawing—emerging with purpose and wisdom.
The Promise of Renewal
Remember: like winter, healing during divorce represents a season—not a permanent state. By allowing yourself to fully experience this period of transformation, you create space for authentic renewal. Spring inevitably follows. New growth emerges from rest and reflection, revealing a more resilient and authentic version of yourself.
A Compassionate Note About Support
While solitude can nurture healing, connection remains vital. If you’re struggling with the grief that accompanies separation, I’ve written more about navigating divorce grief and loss. And if you experience persistent depression or thoughts of self-harm, please reach out to a mental health professional who understands divorce transition. This season, though challenging, need not be weathered alone.
As you move through your own winter, remember: you are not broken. You are not failing. You are becoming.
Perhaps these days of less sunlight are opportunities for more contemplative time, more looking deeply to see what can only be seen in the dark. ~ Sylvia Boorstein
