Creating Your Own Warmth This Winter

Written By Courtney Psenicka

Happy Thursday Dear Reader—

Well, the holidays are over. Family has returned home, the decorations are packed away, and the brisk cold of winter surrounds us as we settle into the quiet waiting for spring. I’ll be honest—this time of year is especially hard for me. The months between Halloween and New Year’s always feel so festive and exciting. From apple picking and pumpkin-spiced lattes to mistletoe and Christmas music, the holidays have a special magic. But once the celebrations end and everyone returns to their everyday lives, I can’t help but feel a sense of eeriness as I return to my routine, just waiting for the warmth and light of spring. This year, it’s hit me harder than usual. On December 24th, I discharged from OCD treatment and found out the gender of our second baby on the way (It’s a girl!). I hosted parties, visited family, and soaked in the love of having my dad stay with us for four months. His presence meant the world to me, especially while I went through treatment, and I’m so grateful for his support— it has truly been the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me. But now that the excitement has faded, I’m back to my role as a stay-at-home mom, navigating long days without much adult interaction. While I love this role, it’s been tough managing it alongside my OCD. Now, as I return to "reality," I find myself experiencing the aftermath of my treatment and relapse, while still working through the recovery process. In this edition, I want to share for myself and for you, dear reader, some of the ways I’m going to stay afloat as I navigate my OCD recovery, motherhood, the quiet loneliness of late winter, and the hope of spring.

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When we decided to try for our second child, I was in a good place with my OCD and anxiety. Although I hadn't yet received an official diagnosis, I had convinced myself that what I experienced after my first child was just a “postpartum thing.” So, when OCD reared its head again shortly after I found out I was pregnant with this baby girl, I was completely blindsided. At first, I was devastated. I had wanted another baby so badly, and I loved being a mother. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear: “How am I going to do this again?” and “What if I can never be the kind of mom I want to be because this keeps coming back?”

Looking back, though, as hard as it was, this flare-up and this pregnancy pushed me to do something I really needed to do: seek a proper diagnosis, get treatment, and work toward accepting my condition and my reality. Since I’ve been home, my family has all fallen sick, my daughter has an especially runny nose, and I’ve found myself confined to the walls of our house. For someone with my type of OCD, this in itself is a huge exposure. So naturally, the feelings of loneliness and isolation have felt especially heavy lately.

There have been many mornings when I wake up thinking, “Oh no, my anxiety is back. I’m going backwards. I’m getting worse—sound the alarms!” Truth be told, the acceptance part of my recovery is still a daily challenge. Acceptance doesn’t mean accepting the content of OCD or anxious thoughts—it means simply allowing them to be there, without judgment, and accepting what is. A part of me still wishes, desperately, that this will just go away. I know logically that the more I hope for that, the harder it becomes to heal, but it’s hard not to wish for peace. The truth is, this is my current reality. It’s the hill I’m climbing right now on this long road to recovery. And I’d be lying if I said there isn’t always a lingering fear of slipping back to the place I was in when I first entered treatment.

Maybe you’ve recently lost a loved one, maybe you, too, struggle with a mental health condition, or maybe the cold loneliness of winter makes it hard to see the bright side of things. No matter the reason, acceptance is something we can all practice. It’s about accepting what currently is, allowing ourselves to feel however we feel, and not wasting energy wishing things were different because, in reality, we can’t change them. It’s hard, believe me, but one way I’ve been practicing this is by focusing on the wonderful moments that have occurred even amidst the struggle.

While my family has been sick during the first week of 2025, and I’m still navigating the transition back to normal life, I’ve also been blessed in so many ways. I cut into a gender reveal cake and saw pink frosting, knowing my beautiful daughter was going to have a sister. I thought about how lucky I was to have sisters growing up—someone to share secrets with, to play with when Mom and Dad were busy. I felt my baby move for the first time, which took me back to when I was pregnant with Nora and reminded me of the magic that comes with creating another little life. I signed Nora up for gymnastics, so every Wednesday until the baby comes, it’s something we can do together just her and I.

I’ve deep-cleaned my house, made homemade meals, and started a new journal for my second baby girl (I write in journals for both of my daughters and plan to give them each one when they turn 18). I took Nora to the library for the first time since my OCD relapse in September. I made her homemade pizza muffins for lunch, caught up with an old friend over dinner, and celebrated all these small, magical moments—even in the middle of a tough time.

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With a stretch of cloudy days and illness, it’s been hard to find warmth and happiness. But warmth doesn’t have to come from the sun’s rays or the first buds of spring. Warmth can come from the things we create within our home. From home-cooked meals to crafts with your kids, or even from braving the cold for a breath of fresh air and then returning to a heated home, smelling of pot roast or freshly baked banana bread.

A big way I plan to invite warmth into my life during this season that feels so lonely, cold, and challenging, is by creating warmth. I’m planning small joys with my daughter, things that bring both of us happiness, even on tough days. I’ll prepare for the little blessing joining our family soon—freezer prepping meals, washing tiny newborn clothes. I’ll journal, create, and read stories that fill my heart.

Instead of letting winter and my anxious thoughts swallow me whole, I’m going to bring that feeling of spring into my life a little early, in my own way.

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So, whether you're kicking off the New Year with a sense of excitement, diving into your goals and aspirations, or, like me, struggling to push through the depths of winter and life’s challenges, know this: tough seasons will always come, and sometimes the aftermath lingers longer than we’d like. Like the last bits of snow clinging to the ditches in early spring, the weight of hardship often stays with us, making it hard to move forward.

But, just as the snow eventually melts when the sun’s warmth breaks through, we, too, will emerge from our struggles. And sometimes, those little remnants of winter—the small snow pile beneath a tree or the frost on the windows in the morning—serve as gentle reminders that brighter days are always ahead. For it is the cold and snow that make the blooming flowers all the more special. There is always something new, something warmer, something hopeful just around the corner.

With Love and Gratitude,

The Mindful Mom

Court