When the clocks go back and the late afternoon slams into night, many of us slip into the same trap: we start treating winter like a season of “all or nothing”. The day feels “over” by 4pm, plans shrink, and the mind quietly writes off the rest.
The bus windows bloom with condensation as the driver opens the doors at Camden Town. It’s 4:12pm, already dark, and the street is a sea of puffer jackets and takeaway steam. A man on the upper deck stares at his weather app as if it’s a verdict, not a forecast.
On the pavement, I hear a woman tell her friend, “I’ll start again in spring.” It lands like resignation, not hope. Shops look brighter than the sky, the kind of brightness that makes you ache a little, and the day feels shorter than it is. The thought that follows is quiet and quick. The day’s done.
And that’s where the trouble starts. The trap is in the script.
The winter thinking trap experts are flagging
Therapists call it all-or-nothing thinking, and winter loves to feed it. If you can’t run for 30 minutes, you don’t go out. If you missed the morning, the day is “ruined”. The brain defaults to a tidy headline: “Not worth it.”
It feels rational in the moment because darkness compresses everything. You get home and the house is cold, so you scroll. The night begins, you label yourself “behind”, and small options disappear. We’ve all had that moment when the sofa wins before you’ve made a fair decision.
Here’s the kicker: that thought pattern collects interest. Skip the walk, skip the call, skip the tidy-up, and the story hardens into identity. “I can’t cope with winter.” For many, this coexists with low mood and low energy. In the UK, clinicians estimate that about one in 15 adults experience Seasonal Affective Disorder, with more dealing with a milder dip. The trap is subtle, but it reroutes a week.
Why your brain slips into it when days get shorter
Darkness compresses time, and our bodies notice before we do. Less daylight nudges sleep and energy patterns, which can make effort feel heavier than usual. When effort feels heavy, the brain craves shortcuts, and binary decisions are the speediest kind. “All or nothing” promises relief from grey areas.
There’s also a misplaced sense of fairness. If the morning was tough, the afternoon “should” be a write-off. If you missed a gym slot, the day “doesn’t count”. That logic is soothing because it removes the need to negotiate with discomfort. Of course, it also strips you of tiny wins that shift mood by a notch or two.
Experts in cognitive behavioural therapy describe a cycle: mood dips, thoughts narrow, choices shrink, and then mood dips further. The weather becomes the villain, and the mind fuses with the forecast. *The feeling becomes the fact.* **But feelings aren’t facts, and forecasts aren’t verdicts.** The work is not to fight the weather; it’s to loosen the thought that winter decides everything.
Small moves that break the “all or nothing” script
Use a rule that ignores your mood but respects your limits: the 5-Minute Doorstep. Step outside for five minutes the moment you think “not worth it”. No workout outfit, no playlist, just coat and keys. Five minutes can become eight, or it can be five, and both outcomes count.
Pair it with the 1–1–1 nudge: one text to a human, one tiny task, one bright thing. Text a friend a single line, wipe one surface, sit by a window with a lamp for one song. These micro-swaps quietly dismantle the “pointless” label. Let’s be honest: no one actually does that every day. The aim is not a gold star streak, it’s momentum in messy conditions.
Watch the language you use to yourself. Replace “I failed today” with “I did one thing that helps”. Replace “It’s too late” with “I have a small window”. **The brain follows verbs, not vibes.**
“All-or-nothing sounds protective, but it steals the middle ground where progress lives,” says a London-based CBT therapist. “Winter asks for flexible thinking, not heroic effort.”
- Try the 10% plan: do 10% of what you intended. Ten push-ups instead of a class. A 10-minute tidy instead of a deep clean.
- Set a “sunlight appointment” in your calendar, even if it’s grey. Light through cloud still counts.
- Anchor evenings with one repeated cue: kettle on, lamp on, phone in another room for 15 minutes.
- Don’t argue with the thought. Label it: “all-or-nothing is talking” and move a muscle.
- Keep a “winter wins” note on your phone. Three lines a week. Wednesday counts the same as Saturday.
An honest winter feels different
I spoke to a shift worker who used to write off entire weeks if a run didn’t happen by 7am. She swapped it for a “one corner” rule: clear one corner of the kitchen after work, then see. Mood lifted just enough that she added a five-minute stretch. Not glamorous. Shockingly effective.
There are errors to expect. Perfection will try to sneak in wearing a cosy jumper. You’ll think, “Since I’m out, I should do 45 minutes.” Keep it small. Another trap is the loneliness spiral: you feel low, so you wait to feel better before you see people. Flip it. Schedule short, light-touch contact, like a 12-minute phone walk with a friend or a neighbourly errand.
A bright lamp helps some people, and so does morning light near a window. Warm food, light movement, small talks. **But the biggest shift is mental: winter is not a test you pass or fail.** Soyons honnêtes : personne ne fait vraiment ça tous les jours.
What we keep, what we let go
Winter isn’t neutral, and pretending it is can feel like gaslighting yourself. Better to name it and shrink it a little. Give winter fewer decisions to make on your behalf, and let the middle ground be where you live, not a compromise you resent.
Maybe you won’t run for 30 minutes until March. You could still breathe outside for five. Maybe dinners look beige for a spell. You could still add colour once a day. Maybe bedtimes wander. You could still dim a lamp and close one tab. The season sets a stage, yes, but it doesn’t write your lines.
Think of this as a looser way to do care. Less heroics, more nudges. Less “new me”, more “gentler script”. Share it with someone who keeps saying they’ll start in spring. They might need a smaller door.
| Key points | Details | Interest for reader |
|---|---|---|
| All-or-nothing thinking spikes in winter | Darkness compresses time and effort, nudging binary decisions like “It’s ruined” or “Why bother?” | Names the trap you’re likely feeling and normalises it |
| Micro-actions beat mood | 5-Minute Doorstep, 1–1–1 nudge, 10% plan, light cues, tiny social contact | Gives practical, low-friction moves you can try tonight |
| Language shapes choices | Swap self-judgement for small, active verbs; label the thought, move a muscle | Turns advice into a repeatable mental habit |
FAQ :
- Is this just Seasonal Affective Disorder?Not always. Some experience clinical SAD, others a milder seasonal dip. The thinking trap applies across that spectrum.
- Does light therapy really help?Some people find bright-light boxes helpful, especially in the mornings. Natural daylight, even on grey days, also matters.
- What if I miss a day and spiral?Reset small. Pick one thing under five minutes. Label the spiral, don’t wrestle it.
- How do I stay social when I’m tired?Use micro-socials: voice notes, phone walks, tea with a neighbour. Short and planned beats long and postponed.
- Any quick workplace tweaks?Sit near a window if you can, stack meetings after a brief daylight break, and use a lamp to brighten late afternoons.
This resonates more than I’d like to admit. Darkness really compresses time; by 4:30 I act like it’s midnight. I tried the 1–1–1 nudge tonight: one text, wiped one surface, one bright song by the window. Weirdly, mood lifted a notch. Not heroic, but it broke the “why bother” loop. Everytime I label the thought (“all‑or‑nothing is talking”), it loosens. Thanks for making the middle ground feel like actual progress.