Here in Dripping Springs, and a large part of Texas, winter has been unusually sharp. The mornings bite. The air carries that brittle stillness that settles into bones and moods alike. And yet—between the cold days—there have been moments of startling beauty. Clear skies. Gentle sunshine spilling across limestone hills. A brief warmth on your face that feels almost like a promise
Those moments matter more than we realize.
The beautiful blue skies may feel like a small preview of spring has brushed through our town, and it’s reminded me how deeply we need light—not just for our bodies, but for our minds and spirits. Sunshine lifts us. It steadies us. It interrupts the heaviness that so often accompanies the cold, dark months of winter and the emotional weight many people quietly carry.
It also reminds us of something important: we each carry the capacity to create “summer” within ourselves, no matter the season or circumstances we’re facing.
Albert Camus captured this truth beautifully when he wrote, “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.”
Over the years, I’ve been struck not by how many people crumble under hardship, but by how many quietly endure—and even grow—through it. Whether the adversity comes in the form of physical cold, emotional depression, grief, loss, or fear, most of us recognize that sinking feeling when life suddenly narrows and nothing seems capable of lifting the weight.
And yet, again and again, I’ve witnessed something remarkable: people finding strength they didn’t know they had.
Why Struggle Often Becomes the Path to Growth
Years ago, a friend shared a story with me—one that stayed tucked beneath papers on my desk for far too long. It feels especially fitting now.
A man once found a cocoon holding a butterfly. One day, a small opening appeared, and he watched for hours as the butterfly struggled to push its body through the narrow space. Eventually, the effort seemed to stall. Wanting to help, the man carefully cut the cocoon open.
The butterfly emerged easily—but its body was swollen, and its wings were small and shriveled. The man waited, expecting the wings to strengthen and expand.
They never did.
The butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling, never able to fly. What the man didn’t understand was that the struggle itself was essential. The resistance of the cocoon forced fluid into the wings, preparing the butterfly for flight. Without the struggle, flight was impossible.
Sometimes, our hardships serve the same purpose.
We often wish away discomfort, pain, and difficulty. But without resistance, we are never asked to discover our own endurance. Without challenge, we never learn how strong, capable, or resilient we truly are.
How Winter—Emotional or Physical—Shapes Us
I once spoke with a World War II veteran who survived the Bataan Death March. He endured starvation, exhaustion, brutal cold, and constant fear. Decades later, he reflected on that experience with quiet clarity.
He told me that once he discovered the depth of his endurance, much of his fear dissolved. He became confident in who he was and what he could survive. He ended our conversation by saying, “I finally lost my fear of hell by walking through a hell on earth and coming out the other side. After that, nothing seemed impossible.”
Not all suffering needs to be extreme to be meaningful. Emotional winters—depression, anxiety, grief, loneliness—can feel just as isolating and just as real. And yet, these seasons, too, can shape us.
5 Ways to Create “Summer” for Yourself – Even in Winter
You may not be able to control the weather or the circumstances of your life right now, but there are gentle, intentional ways to invite warmth and resilience back into your days.
Seek Light on Purpose
When the sun appears, even briefly, step outside. Let it touch your face. Sit by a window. Open the blinds. Light—natural or intentional—signals safety and steadiness to the nervous system.
Allow Struggle Without Self-Judgment
Difficulty does not mean failure. Growth often looks messy, slow, and uncomfortable. Speak to yourself with patience rather than criticism.
Create Small Rituals of Warmth.
A hot cup of tea. Soft music. A familiar blanket. These simple comforts ground us and remind the body that it is safe to rest.
Stay Connected.
Isolation deepens winter’s emotional chill. Reach out—to a friend, a trusted family member, or a professional. Connection is one of the most reliable antidotes to despair.
Ask for Support When You Need It.
Resilience doesn’t mean doing everything alone. Therapy offers a space to make meaning of struggle, identify next steps, and build skills that support emotional flight rather than exhaustion.
Your Inner Summer Is Still There
Winter—whether in the weather or the heart—can be deceptive. It whispers that warmth is gone for good. That things will always feel this heavy.
But that isn’t true.
You carry something resilient inside you. Something capable of endurance, growth, and renewal. Like the butterfly, your strength is often forged in narrow spaces and quiet struggles.
Summer returns when you allow yourself to notice it—inside and out.
If you find yourself wondering what your next right step might be, I welcome you into my Dripping Springs practice. In a warm, compassionate setting, we’ll work together to clarify your goals, strengthen your inner resources, and help you move forward with steadiness and hope.
Even in winter, your inner summer remains.
If you’re struggling finding your path to finding summer or appreciating the warmth and brightness you can create for yourself, my door is open for clients in-person around the Austin Hill Country and throughout the state for Telehealth.
Leslie Tourish LPC 
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