What Do I Want to Become This Winter?
What do I want to become this winter?
Not a brand-new version of myself.
Not a “before and after.”
Not a sprint toward some imagined finish line.
I want to continue the journey of a calmer, healthier version of me.
This season isn’t a marathon. It’s a gentle cadence. A soft leaning into spaces that feel less chaotic and more beautiful. More simple. More supportive of the way I actually want to live.
And lately, I’ve been noticing how much our spaces reflect our inner worlds.
The Cupboards We Avoid
If you could see my pantry cupboards and my spice drawers, you’d understand. They’re the kind of cupboards you open quickly, grab what you need, and slam shut before you have to face what’s really going on in there.
Expired spices.
Half-used baking mixes.
The “we’ll try this someday” preserves.
Bits and pieces collected over time, often from other like-minded companies I admire.
They’re full of great intentions.
And also… a little overwhelming.
This winter, I’ve decided:
This will be the winter I tend to those chaotic spaces.
Not with an aggressive purge.
Not with a “rip it all out and start over” energy.
But with care.
With curiosity.
With the intention of making space for what I truly love and use now.
I’ll be honest, I’m cringing a little already! It actually scares me. 😱
Because if our drawers and pantries say anything about who we are… eeek. That’s a vulnerable mirror. I must be a hot, spicy mess!
But I also know this:
When it’s done, it will feel sooo good.
Those small, quiet changes ripple outward. A cupboard that’s easy to navigate makes meal prep feel gentler. A drawer that opens without chaos softens the start of the day. When the kitchen supports you instead of overwhelming you, it becomes a place of calm rather than pressure, and that’s the rhythm I’m craving.
Not perfection.
Just ease.
Choosing to Stay Instead of Fix
I’ve already shared that this year I’m not setting rigid goals or resolutions. And that sounds lovely in theory. But the truth is, I still wake up some mornings wanting to fix myself.
I’ve been with the same fitness trainer for over a year now, and I genuinely love that rhythm. It grounds me. And still, I’m a perimenopausal woman trying to make sense of a body that doesn’t respond the way it once did. That part is humbling. Disorienting. Some days, it’s heartbreaking. It also makes me cringe.
I think I’ve always carried a quiet thread of body dysmorphia. This season has simply brought it to the surface. And I’m realizing that no amount of willpower is going to bully me into peace.
So when I say I’m choosing to “be the change,” what I really mean is this:
I’m learning to stay.
To not abandon myself in frustration.
To meet discomfort with a little less judgment and a little more honesty.
That’s what this winter reset feels like.
Not a reinvention.
A practice.
Tending, Not Transforming
When I open a drawer and face the mess instead of slamming it shut, I’m doing the same work I’m trying to do in my own life.
Looking without flinching.
Letting go without punishment.
Making space without shame.
I don’t know exactly what I’m becoming.
I just know I’m tired of fighting.
And I’m curious what might happen if I start tending instead.
Maybe this winter isn’t asking us to reinvent ourselves.
Maybe it’s asking us to care.
A Gentle Invitation
One shelf.
One drawer.
One small space at a time.
So I’m inviting you to join me. Not in a big January overhaul, but in a gentle reset. Open one cupboard. Notice how it feels. Ask yourself what still belongs in this season of your life.
What are you ready to release?
What do you want to make space for?
What kind of rhythm do you want your home to hold for you this winter?
Sometimes, becoming begins with a single drawer.
Lots of love,
Marsha
