Winter Transitions: Finding Structure and Support During the Holidays

Here in the Northeast, when the leaves fall, the trees don’t disappear — they reveal themselves.

Branches that were once hidden come into view. The shape of the tree becomes clearer. And sometimes, tucked into that revealed structure, you notice things that were always there: nests, knots, places of shelter and activity, built and held long before you could see them. These hidden supports are often blanketed in snow, making them even more visible in winter.

This season does that to people, too. For those of us in transition—and for many neurodivergent people—the winter season becomes a time of seeing more clearly what was already there. When the noise quiets and expectations thin out, what’s revealed isn’t weakness. What’s exposed is the structure that has been holding us all along. Structure that doesn’t demand. Structure that quietly provides support.

The holiday season, however, often disrupts our usual routines. There are increased expectations to participate in holiday cheer, greater demands on productivity, and the familiar pressure of “New Year, New You.” For neurodivergent adults especially, these shifts can feel destabilizing.

🌲What is the structure that holds you together during this time? 

🍃What do you notice about yourself when you “drop your leaves”?

The nests now visible in the bare branches are places of nurturing. They are safe spaces built for growing and becoming, hidden in plain sight during fuller seasons. Babies being fed are not expected to leave until they are ready. 

🪹If it feels possible, where might you offer yourself a small nest of support during this busy holiday season?

During times of transition, it’s easy to forget the daily structures that help us feel grounded. In my last post, I invited you to reflect on how you showed up for Thanksgiving and how that influenced the weeks that followed. I suggested three gentle anchors for holiday transitions: planning, eating, and moving. 

🌲Were you able to let structure support you while remaining flexible enough to respond to the wind without breaking?

Not all nests are tidy or perfectly formed. Each one is unique, and each nest that remains has

withstood many storms. We, too, have weathered storms—some larger than others. During the holidays, there may be moments when we respond with ease and others when we struggle. Both are human. Just as imperfect nests nurture life, we can begin by nurturing ourselves with the supports that help us stay grounded and resilient.

If walking alongside someone during this season and the rest of winter to come feels grounding, I welcome you to reach out. Together, we can explore the supports that help you navigate winter transitions by revealing—and trusting—what already lies within you.