Words by Lydia Paleschi

A sudden shift in the elements, the arrival of numb toes in the ocean and the disappearance of the last of this year’s cygnets from my local lake (aptly named Swanpool) mark an abrupt change in the seasons this past fortnight. Summer has graced us with the last of its presence for this year and as I’ve begun to dig out my winter wardrobe, my attention has turned to what lies ahead. 

I had intended to depart for pastures anew this winter, surfing in Sri Lanka or Costa Rica, soaking up the vibrance of a new culture and to be honest, outright avoiding the darkest months of the year. It turns out things haven’t quite worked that way and instead I’m spending another winter in Cornwall – something I swore I’d never do again.

We’re all familiar (or most of us are, thanks to George R. R. Martin) to the ominous foreboding of ‘winter is coming’ and the negative connotations associated with its arrival. Thankfully for us, we aren’t at risk from the arrival of murderous White Walkers – although who knows any more with the shit show* of curveballs that 2020 has thrown us. 

What I do know is that I’ve noticed mutterings of disheartenment and was beginning to feel my own, as everyone prepares to hibernate or put their ambitions on hold. As they resign themselves to hunkering down, anticipating the arrival of the inevitable.

But, it doesn’t have to be like this. 

Think like a Norwegian 

I came across a Guardian article titled Think Like a Norwegian. I learnt that whilst in the UK and other European countries the shorter days cause lethargy and low mood, in the northernmost parts of the world this isn’t the case. 

The research shows that whilst conditions such as seasonal affective disorder (SAD) are traditionally assumed to have a biological basis, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that this response is subjective. It points out that whilst it is common for inhabitants of many countries to be predisposed to dislike winter, many of those living in the more northern parts of the world, where winter means as little as two hours of sunlight per day, aren’t particularly phased by it. 

Upon further analysis it became abundantly clear why this was the case – perspective. 

One poll from last year cites that almost fifty per cent of British people would rather hibernate than have to deal with scraping ice off the car or deal with a series of aggressive fights with umbrellas. Whereas, for those who live in countries such as Norway or Denmark there is hiking, koselig and hygge to look forward to. In fact, many of those in the latter countries find it difficult to understand why you would not like winter. No wonder they are less inclined to the winter blues. 

This concept of positive mental framing got me thinking about mindset.  

Adopting a ‘challenge-oriented’ mindset

Positive mental framing and adopting a ‘challenge-oriented’ mindset is what has led to a marked positive shift in my wellbeing over the past couple of years – the past twelve months in particular. By viewing things as a challenge – with lessons to be learned – rather than as a threat, I have been able to transition from a place of anxiety and fear to a place where I push myself daily and enjoy it (I wrote about this in my latest blog for Wild Swimming Cornwall). 

So, why haven’t I been applying it to my feelings around winter? 

Yes, the increased cases of COVID-19 are a very real threat – but not a new one. The reality is, we’ve already been living with it for over six months and everyone is in the same boat. Whilst it is not something to be taken lightly, just because of the added arrival of winter, this does not mean that we need to put our lives on hold. In fact, even if we’re placed under restrictions again, the possibilities of what we can do are (almost) endless. 

People have found incredible ways to adapt so far and will continue to do so moving forwards. You can guarantee that they did so by adopting some form of a challenge focused mindset, focusing on solutions and possibilities rather than negativities and fears.

For me, this realisation has led to me making the decision to treat this winter like a challenge, in the know that subsequent years will be easier and the likelihood that there’s lots of good that can come from it. Although I intended to never spend another winter in Cornwall, rather than mourn the loss of a travelling experience that doesn’t even exist yet, I can rise to the possibility of new challenges which are appearing over the horizon.

Can I pick up learning Spanish again? Absolutely. Can I push myself to plunge my body into cold water without a wetsuit all year round? Maybe. Can I train myself to stop eating chocolate? Never. 

*Apologies to anyone offended by my use of language here. Clare, my open water swimming coach, told me I wasn’t allowed to use words in class that I don’t use in my writing and I’m rather fond of the word shit. Although, who am I kidding? There will definitely be swearing throughout my blogs, though I’ll try to rein it in.

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