When it feels like everyone else is coupled up: Surviving the social chill

There’s something about winter that can make you feel like the only one on the outside looking in.

Maybe it’s the cosy couple photos on your feed—matching beanies, weekend getaways, wine by the fire.
Or the invites to dinners where you know you’ll be the only one without a plus-one.
Or just the heaviness that settles in when the evenings grow long and quiet, and your phone stays silent.

It can feel like the world is pairing off while you're figuring out how to sleep in the middle of the bed again.

And if you’ve recently separated—or are deep in the rebuilding season—it can hit even harder.

Shared custody, cold hands: Navigating winter handover days with grace

There’s something about winter handovers that can make everything feel heavier.

Maybe it’s the way the cold gets into your bones.
Maybe it’s the grey skies and the hurried goodbyes in chilly car parks.
Or maybe it’s that little lump in your throat as your child disappears into the backseat of another car—still clutching the teddy they didn’t want to forget.

Parenting after separation is full of transitions.
But in winter, those handover moments can feel particularly tender.
The silence afterwards. The chill that lingers. The emotional aftershocks that ripple through both you and your child.

Winter nostalgia: Honouring the good without getting stuck in the past

There’s something about winter that invites reflection.

Maybe it’s the quiet.
The familiar chill in the air (or sometimes, the lack of it).
The way the days wrap themselves in soft light and early darkness.

For many people who are rebuilding after separation, winter can feel like both a comfort and a trigger—especially when memories of how things used to be come creeping in.

A favourite recipe.
A song on the radio during school drop-off.
The smell of a slow-cooked meal on a Sunday afternoon.
A photo that pops up in your phone’s memory feed.

Winter, more than any other season, seems to hold those memories a little closer. And while some bring warmth, others sting with the ache of what’s changed.

The scent of safety: How simple winter smells can ground you and your children after separation

There’s something about winter that brings everything closer. The light is softer, the nights arrive sooner, and life seems to slow just enough for us to feel more.

And when you’re going through a separation, that more can be overwhelming. More stillness. More memories. More questions.

But in the quiet of winter, there’s also room to breathe—and surprisingly, scent can be one of the most powerful tools to help you and your children feel safer, calmer and more grounded.

Let’s be honest.
When you’re going through separation, the idea of being grateful can feel… a little ridiculous.

You’re grieving.
You’re exhausted.
You’re figuring out how to hold everything together when half of it just fell apart.

And then someone on the internet says, “Just practice gratitude.” 😵‍💫

I get it — it can feel a little tone-deaf at first.
But here’s the thing I always share with my coaching clients:

Gratitude isn’t about ignoring the hard stuff.
It’s about remembering the good that still exists — even in the middle of the storm.

It’s not an either/or.
You can be sad… and still find one thing to be thankful for.
You can feel anxious… and still notice something steady in
your day.
You can be angry… and still take a breath that calms your nervous system.

Gratitude doesn’t erase the pain — it creates room around it.

Let’s talk about those moments that sneak up on you.

You know the ones I mean — when you’re doing okay (or at least holding it together)…
and suddenly, your chest tightens. Your thoughts start racing. Your heart is pounding and you’re not sure what triggered it.

Sometimes it’s a conversation.
Sometimes it’s silence.
Sometimes it’s nothing at all.

And suddenly, you're overwhelmed by emotion — anxiety, sadness, confusion — like you're caught in a storm without an umbrella.

I see this all the time with clients I work with during separation and divorce. They say things like:

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was fine, and now I can’t breathe.”
“It just hits out of nowhere — the tears, the panic, the fear.”
“My mind goes into overdrive and I feel like I can’t shut it off.”

Sound familiar?

If so, here’s your gentle reminder:
🌀 You’re not broken.
🌀 This is normal.
🌀 And you can do something about it — in the moment — to find calm again.

There’s a moment that happens for so many clients I work with…

They’ve made the decision. The relationship is over. The logistics are starting to fall into place. Maybe they’ve even had a few good days.

And then — out of nowhere — wham.
A tidal wave of emotion hits.

Grief. Anger. Guilt. Loneliness. Fear. Hope. Regret. Relief.
All tumbling over each other like waves in a storm.

And the first thing they ask me is:
“Why am I still feeling like this?”
“Shouldn’t I be over it by now?”
“Why does it change every single day?”

One of the things I hear most often from women after separation is this:

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I’m just so angry all the time.”

Angry at their ex.
Angry at the situation.
Angry at how unfair it all feels.
And, maybe most of all, angry at themselves — for feeling this way at all.

But here’s the truth I always share with them:

💬 Anger is not a problem. It’s a message.
It’s your nervous system saying something mattered, and that something important was lost.

And in the context of separation? That could be trust. Safety. A dream. A future you’d built your life around.

The first Friday night after your separation, you find yourself standing in front of the fridge with a glass of rosé in hand, still wearing the clothes you cried in all day. Your kids were finally asleep.

The silence in the house was so loud it buzzed in your ears. It was not drinking to enjoy the wine, but so you wouldn’t feel the lump in your throat.
So you wouldn’t sit down on the floor and fall apart.

So you  wouldn’t have to think about how empty the bed — and  life — suddenly felt.

And for a while, it helped.
Until it didn’t.

I’ll never forget the moment one of my clients, lets call her Jenna, looked at me and said,
“We made a plan. But it just… doesn’t work in real life.”

She was referring to the parenting plan she and her ex had scribbled down when they first separated — filled with good intentions, but no real guidance.

At first, they agreed on the basics:
Week-on, week-off.
Half the school holidays each.

Communication through emails

It sounded fair.
It looked neat on paper.
But then life happened.

Soccer training was moved to Thursdays.
One child refused to pack her bag.
The other wanted to FaceTime every night he wasn’t at Mum’s.
And the emails started piling up.

Jenna didn’t need a “fair” plan. She needed a realistic one — something that worked for them, not some idealised version of separated parenting.

If that’s where you are right now, you’re not failing — you’re human. And the good news is, there is a better way.