February and I’m Uninspired.

It’s February and the cactus in my windowsill has wilted. Same, girl, same. I carve out some pleasure in the fact that there is a glow of light in the sky at 5:30, but still. Clients in the last few weeks have been struggling. I have been struggling. We are unmoored. Helplessness is on the rise.

I have ideas about why I’m wilted, which is part of the problem. A sense of fragility hangs over me, and yet I can’t change the weight of the days.

February and life feels like this poem:

And The Days Are Not Full Enough
And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
               Not shaking the grass.

— Ezra Pound

February and I’m uninspired. Craving fun, easy dopamine, and carbohydrates. I’m collecting snippets of writing and inspiration and weaving them into my nest in the hopes that they keep me tethered to this intricate, circular, and whole life.

When I am feeling dreary, annoyed and generally unimpressed by life, I imagine what it would be like to come back to this world for just a day after having been dead. I imagine how sentimental I would feel about the very things I once found stupid, hateful or mundane. Oh, there’s a light switch! I haven’t seen a light switch in so long! I didn’t realize how much I missed light switches! Oh! Oh! And look – the stairs up to our front porch are still completely cracked! Hello cracks! Let me get a good look at you. And there’s my neighbor, standing there, fantastically alive, just the same, still punctuating her sentences with you know what I’m saying? Why did that bother me? It’s so… endearing.
— Amy Krouse Rosenthal, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life

I also think of this similar insta-famous quote shared with me by a client, which has stuck with me for months now:

I read

Anne of Baggebo

’s essay The Dread of Winter today. With wisdom and an eye on a world wiser than productivity she writes,

The birds, the cat, and the newborn are not rushing through winter for spring, so why should I?

Instead they rest, they eat and they observe. They watch the light come and go, the snow fall and melt again. They are not productive, they are dreaming and building strength for the year to come.

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February is for slowing down in a place and time that doesn’t know what that looks like.

And.

Holing up and living in the interior is rest, but I’ve also lived in secret—watching the parade pass me by until I missed it, all in the guise of “rest.” That kind of rest is actually work. It’s the work of covering up my fears of being laughed at, ashamed, misunderstood. It’s a retreat that isn’t restorative, but a protection from the vulnerability of truly showing up. But no more.

Today, surrounded by the simple miracles of a grocery store, a sore left big toe, a pine tree, and soapy water, I commit to reclaiming the energy I’ve spent living small, hiding behind a facade of invulnerability. Instead, I will invest that energy in embracing the bravery it takes to truly rest—not as a retreat from life, but as a way to nourish and restore myself fully.

• Today, I will try my very best not to be halfway.

• Today, I will ask more questions and listen more deeply.

• Today, I will do things before I feel ready.

• Today, I will allow connection outside of my comfort zone.

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What about you? What are the small acts of bravery you can commit to today? What is something in your own life that feels stuck, wilted, or unclear, and how can you show up for it in a new way?

Take a moment to reflect. Maybe it’s something simple, like reaching out to someone you’ve been meaning to reconnect with, or choosing to let yourself rest instead of overworking. Or maybe, like me, it’s about showing up to life even when you don’t feel entirely ready. I’d love to hear what bravery looks like for you today. Together, maybe we can create a little more space for curiosity, for action, for connection.

Happy wandering.

~ Rebecca

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If my writing resonates with you and you’re looking for support, I’d be honored to work with you.

I am a licensed therapist in the states of New York and Colorado, offering virtual therapy sessions. I also provide coaching for clients in the US and abroad, helping individuals navigate life’s challenges, build resilience, and create meaningful connections.

If you're ready to explore what it means to show up fully in your life, reach out—I’d love to be part of your journey. You can also book a FREE 30 minute consultation here.