I’ll be honest: I didn’t use to notice the seasons all that much. Too busy, too inside, too everything. But somewhere around 50—give or take a year—I started feeling it more. Like my body had its own version of spring, fall, and everything in between, and suddenly the weather wasn’t just weather. It was a message. Slow down. Pay attention. Try again. That’s where this whole self-care thing started making sense for me. Not the bubble-bath kind. The quiet kind. The kind you almost don’t notice until you realize you feel… steadier.
When the world changes, change with it
You don’t have to be mystical about it. But honestly? The world moves in cycles, and we forget we’re allowed to do the same. I used to shame myself for feeling low in winter or restless in July. Now I try to notice. And adjust. I started to align myself-care with the natural rhythms of the year, and it’s made a real difference. Not dramatic. Just… steadier. More humane.
A calendar saved me (sort of)
I didn’t expect this one to work. But a friend gifted me a photo calendar, and I’m filling it out each month with my own pictures. Shockingly powerful. Not in a “vision board” way. Just…quiet proof that my life is full. Sunsets. My dog. A grandkid with spaghetti on her face. It became this sweet little ritual: pick the photo, scribble a note, hang it. Now I create a personalized photo calendar every January. One photo per month. One reason to smile every day I see it.
Spring: Start small, not over
Spring gets a lot of hype. “Fresh start!” “Clean slate!” Honestly, sometimes that pressure just stressed me out. But the truth is, spring isn’t asking for a whole new you. It’s just a little light creeping in. A reason to stretch. Breathe. Try something you didn’t have energy for in February. When I feel ready, I shift my wellbeing into spring’s light by changing one small thing—a new walk route, a new tea in the morning, or opening the windows again. It doesn’t have to be loud. It just has to feel like forward.
Summer: More skin, less shame
This one took work. For a long time, summer made me feel like I didn’t belong in my
own body. Shorts felt like a risk. Pool invites made me tense. But that’s changed. Now, summer is when I soften. When I say yes to being outside, even if my thighs touch. Even if I need a wide-brimmed hat and a fan in my purse. I try to make space for movement in warm months—not because I “should,” but because it helps me breathe. Walking after dinner. Picking blueberries. Letting my arms show. Joy feels better than hiding.
Fall: Questions come more easily here
Something about the light shifting makes me reflect whether I want to or not. Fall feels like a big exhale—especially after a summer where I overcommitted (again). I tend to declutter more in this season. Not just stuff, but thoughts. Plans. People sometimes. I journal more. I say “no” more. I recognize the impact of autumn’s mindset shift and stop pretending I have to be upbeat all the time. This is the season for choosing what stays. And what doesn’t.
Winter: The real self-care season
I used to dread winter. Still do, sometimes. The dark gets in my bones. I eat more bread than vegetables. But I’ve also learned that this season is honest. And it gives back if I meet it gently. Candles help. Heated blankets. Phone calls instead of texts. I try to manage mood shifts during darker months by building little pockets of light into my days. No big goals. Just warmth. I don’t push myself to bloom when it’s time to hibernate. That’s not failure. That’s rhythm.
What works now is different than before
I used to chase the “right” morning routine, the best planner, the supplements
influencers swear by. I’m not doing that anymore. Not because I’m above it—but because I’m tired. And because real care, at this age, looks different. I need things that fit me now, not who I used to be. So I started exploring self-care rituals tailored for women over 50, and suddenly things clicked. Less pressure. More softness. Fewer checklists. More naps. I’ve earned that.
There’s nothing wrong with you if you feel different in February than in June. That’s not inconsistency—it’s humanity. So instead of trying to be the same all year, I let the seasons carry me. Not control me. Just… hold me. A little quieter in December. A little more color in July. I’ve stopped asking myself to be immune to the changes around me. Now, I ask: What kind of care fits today?
Discover inspiring stories and practical advice for living your best life at “thisisyourbestyear”, where every chapter is an opportunity for growth and joy!
Guest post by Sarah Noel
No Comments