Are You a Wintrovert?
“Wintrovert” is my new favorite compound word: a useful combo of “winter” and “introvert,” it perfectly encapsulates this post-holiday, pre-Spring stretch of cold, gray days that plead for total hibernation.
I wrote a back-page essay (above) for the winter issue of Atlanta Home magazine about the idea. (You can also read it online here.) Inside, I laud all of the many virtues of this time a year — cozy blankets, a proliferation of candles, big stock pots of soup, TV binges and books in bed — and a big, stable dose of rest.
2018 was a year I will remember for the rest of my life as one of the hardest I have ever endured. Death, abuse, theft, threats to my health and safety and a pedantic string of petty crises splashed across my windshield and obscured my view with no warning. Being behind the wheel of my life suddenly felt like a treacherous act. Steering straight became impossible.
So while I love the optimism of a new year every year, this year, in particular, I took January seriously. I have shamelessly leaned into self-care, tending to myself as if I were paying a visit to a sick friend. The world has slowed and turned inward, and so have I.
Have I bought more turtleneck sweaters, sheet masks and paperback books than anyone needs this season? Yes, probably. I have also been voraciously consuming anything that nourishes me or makes me laugh, from podcasts and cookbooks to time with friends and family in other cities. I have Marie Kondo’d my entire home and loved on my dog even more than usual. Through these things, I have been healing. Because if nothing else, embracing your inner Wintrovert is a cyclical prescription to help mend a year’s worth of fractures.
It’s going to be a great 2019, I can feel it.