How Dance Helps Us When We Have the Winter Blues
When winter feels heavy, and decisions feel impossible, dance reminds us that movement—no matter how small—can still carry us forward. Even in our hardest seasons, we are still capable of resilience, beauty, and becoming.
We can weather the winter blues.
Summary: This week’s cancelled dance class became a doorway into more profound questions: independence, purpose, aging, and how we keep going when life feels heavy. Dance reminds us to begin again, to move gently, and to trust that even small steps count.
This post is part of my ongoing series, Lessons from the Dance Floor, where I share stories from my adult jazz dance class—and the surprising life lessons they reveal. Each week, I explore how movement, music, and a beginner’s mindset can help women over 55 confront self-doubt, rediscover joy, and live with intention. This is my Week Six blog for Session Two. (To see more: Midlife in Motion Hub)
A Preamble: What Dance Teaches Us About Navigating Winter Blues
Introduction
Last night’s adult jazz dance class was cancelled because of snowfall and unsafe roads. And while that decision was wise, the cancellation hit me hard. Winter has a way of magnifying everything—loneliness, fatigue, indecision, financial stress, health worries, and the deep ache of wanting life to feel a little lighter.
Women over 55 know these winters intimately—not just the season, but the emotional winters of life. The times when we’re not sure what the next right step is. When decision-making feels impossible. When the body hurts. When independence feels threatened. When we wonder whether our work, our effort, our passion projects are reaching anyone at all.
And yet…
Something in me keeps returning to the same question:
What can dance teach me about getting through this?
This blog is my attempt to answer that—with honesty, compassion, and hope for any woman who is walking through her own heavy season.
Women over 55 know these winters intimately—not just the season, but the emotional winters of life—the winter blues.
The times when we’re not sure what the next right step is. When decision-making feels impossible. When the body hurts. When independence feels threatened. When we wonder whether our work, our effort, our passion projects are reaching anyone at all.
When Everything Feels Hard: The Inner Winter
The truth is—I am struggling. I have the winter blues.
My car is leaking power-steering fluid again, and winter driving in Nova Scotia is not optional. Wolfville sits on a steep hill. Groceries, errands, and appointments require either a functioning car or Herculean physical effort. Losing my car would mean losing a portion of independence and mobility, two things I value deeply.
At the same time, the car is a burden—a constant drain on my money I can’t afford.
I’m tired of the decisions.
I’m tired of the financial pressure—debt that feels like pushing a boulder uphill.
I’m tired of the loneliness of being a woman in her seventies navigating everything alone.
I’m tired of chronic pain, fatigue, and the emotional ache that cries out for meaning.
And in the middle of this exhaustion, I ask myself the most challenging question:
Am I even making a difference with my work?
My website. My writing. My heart poured out in hopes of helping women 55+.
No sales. No feedback. Just silence.
This is the kind of winter that feels like it will swallow you.
But then I remember the dance floor.
This is the kind of winter that feels like it will swallow you.
But then I remember the dance floor.
What Dance Teaches Me in the Hardest Weeks
Even though I couldn’t physically attend class, I found myself reflecting deeply on what dance has already taught me—lessons that feel especially meaningful now.
1. You can begin again at any time.
Missing classes doesn’t erase your progress.
It doesn’t invalidate your courage.
Dance always welcomes you back.
Midlife feels the same.
You begin again—not once, but over and over.
2. You don’t need perfect conditions to move forward.
Women over 55 often feel like we must “get it together” before we can try again.
But dance says otherwise.
Even awkward steps count.
Even slow progress matters.
Movement is movement.
3. Your body teaches resilience even when your mind feels lost.
Chronic pain. Fatigue. Age.
These things challenge us—but they also teach pacing, listening, and gentleness.
Canadian health research supports this: gentle, regular movement improves mood, reduces the risk of depression, and strengthens resilience in older adults.¹
4. Community matters more than perfection.
Even thinking about my classmates reminds me:
I belong somewhere.
And so do you.
Social connection is one of the strongest predictors of healthy aging in Canadian studies.²
5. Dance shows you what you can do—not what you can’t.
When everything feels overwhelming, dance simplifies life into one moment:
One step, one breath, one piece of choreography.
The rest of the world quiets.
Even though I couldn’t physically attend class, I found myself reflecting deeply on what dance has already taught me—lessons that feel especially meaningful now.
When You’re a Woman Over 55 Facing Your Own Winter
If you, too, are struggling—if winter feels heavier than usual—here’s what I want you to know:
You are not failing. You are navigating.
Life after 55 is full of transitions—physical, financial, emotional, relational.
You are not meant to carry these silently or flawlessly.
You deserve support.
Ask for rides. Ask for help. Accept the kindness of others.
That is not a weakness.
That is community.
Movement helps—even if it’s small.
A gentle stretch.
A slow walk.
A few steps of dance in your kitchen.
These things shift your mental state more than you realize.
You are allowed to rethink everything.
Work. Purpose. Finances. Identity.
This stage of life is not an ending—it’s a re-evaluation.
You matter—even when no one responds.
Your life, your presence, and your heart have value beyond metrics or analytics.
If you, too, are struggling—if winter feels heavier than usual—here’s what I want you to know:
What I’ll Do Next—and What You Might Try
I don’t have all the answers. But here is what I’m choosing:
I’ll keep writing, because writing helps me breathe.
I’ll keep showing up to dance, even if I have to ask for a ride.
I’ll keep making one small decision at a time, not all of them at once.
I’ll move gently, instead of pushing myself harshly.
I’ll practice self-compassion, something Canadian mental health organizations consistently recommend for women in midlife.³
And if you’re reading this, I hope you choose at least one small thing today that helps you feel supported, hopeful, or connected.
Dance may not solve our problems.
But it reminds us that we are still capable of movement, beauty, and becoming.
I don’t have all the answers. But here is what I’m choosing:
Dance may not solve our problems.
But it reminds us that we are still capable of movement, beauty, and becoming.
Internal Links (Loop See Ladder)
These pages deepen this journey and support women over 55:
External Canadian Sources
¹ Government of Canada – Physical activity and your health
² Active Aging Canada – Physical Activity for Older Adults
³ Mental Health Commission of Canada – Improving mental health outcomes for all people in Canada
FAQ
What if I feel overwhelmed and unable to make decisions?
Start with one tiny, doable choice. Movement begins with manageable steps.
How do I stay active in winter when I feel low? When I have the winter blues.
Short bursts of gentle movement—stretching, walking indoors, or simple dance steps—are proven to boost mood in older adults.
What if I’ve missed too many classes or feel behind?
You can always return. Dance, like life, has no expiration date.
How do I ask for help without feeling like a burden?
Asking is a strength. Community is a gift—both to give and receive.
Can dance really support emotional health?
Yes. Research shows movement improves mood, reduces anxiety, and strengthens resilience, especially in older adults.
NOTE: To check out my newest article on Medium, please click this link: When the Path Feels Heavy: Can Dance Help Us Rise?
👉 I thoughtfully use AI tools to polish my writing, but every story comes from my lived experience. The dance class is real, the laughter is mine, and the lessons are shared with you in the hope they spark joy and reflection in your own journey.
