Twelve Little Acts of Self-Care That Got Me Through February

Featuring the perfect audiobook, oversized sweatpants, and fresh orange tulips

It’s the last stretch of February, and the tulips are sagging. They’ve bloomed over, look water-sick and unhappy, in their little pink ceramic vase. Remnants of Christmas decorations stand around, forgotten.

I spend several minutes debating whether the pale circle vaguely visible behind the clouds is the sun or the moon. Turns out, it’s the sun.

My partner and I only half-joke about moving to the south of Europe.

Ah, February.

The most wretched time of the year

I always did hate February.

Or actually, maybe I didn’t, once. I don’t have a strong memory of my childhood Februaries. But over the years, the more Februaries I’ve lived through, the more it has cemented itself into my least favourite month of the year. It’s not even a competition. Rainy grey November, commonly despised among my countrymen, is a joy and pleasure in comparison.

When the new year energy wears off sometime midway through January, it invariably sets in. It’s not even the darkest part of the year. It’s more about having already powered through weeks and weeks and weeks of darkness. I’ve run out of the willpower to turn lack of daylight into cosiness. If it’s not seasonal depression, at least it’s seasonal dreariness.

It shows up in my reading. The first two months are usually my worst reading months of the year. The energy just isn’t there. This year is no different. I start reading one book, put it down, pick up another, put it down.

This particular February started with two back-to-back weeks of illness. First some kind of bleary cold, then a nice little endometriosis flair, and to round it out, self-imposed food poisoning. (Yes, it was stupid.)

So there I am, in the last weeks of February, tulips sagging and the sky a vague dirty shade of white. I’ve managed to kill at least three of my plants, and it’s not looking good for another two. The kitchen counter is a mess. We’ve paused our Hello Fresh subscription because the recipes feel like too much work. I don’t remember when I last took a walk in the forest.

I’ve bought a brand new green and shiny coffee machine. I eat vitamin D religiously. I’ve bought a new quirky lampshade second hand and I have an expensive wake up lamp. Does it help? Sure, a little. But at the end of winter, after months of Nordic darkness, there literally is nothing like the sun.

Self-caring my way out of February

When I finally feel better after my weeks of being sick, I decide I’m going to tackle February with self-care. It feels like this month is never ever going to end (surely it’s no coincidence that the Groundhog Day movie is set in February). But I know that if I just survive another week and a half, it’ll be March. While not my favourite month exactly, it’s considerably better than February.

So, little by little, I counter February with small joys.

I buy a pair of oversized sweatpants

Rather than getting myself out of sweatpants mood, I’m leaning into it with a pair of new, sized up, chocolatey brown sweatpants. They’re soft and comfy and cute, and wearing them makes me happy.

I treat myself to a magazine

I’m not a big magazine reader, so every time I get one, it feels like a luxury. Now, I get a copy of The Simple Things. The cover looks like early spring.

I paint my nails a soft pink

My longing for spring goes in shades of light blue and pink this year, and my nails become a canvas of manifestation.

I light a scented candle

My dear mum gifted me a scented candle the last time she was over. I light it. I smell it. It’s nice.

I start my new reading journal

Having had a not-so-great start to my reading year, I’ve not been inspired to start my new reading journal. But now I finally sit down, plan out spreads and start making them. And it’s so nice and fun and cosy, and what do you know, it gives me a much needed inspiration injection for my reading life.

I wear a beige and blue beanie

It may still be cold and wintery, but why not wear a thick woolly beanie that looks like it was made for cold spring days?

I get a long overdue eye check-up

Powered by the motivation of new glasses, I finally get myself to the eye check-up I’ve been procrastinating on for an embarrassingly long time. My prescription has changed a tad but no issues otherwise, and I browse pretty new frames and ponder who this new version of me will be.

I book a hair appointment

My hair has gotten long and scraggly over the winter, and after rocking my natural colour for a couple of years, I’ve grown a bit bored of it. I book a dye and cut appointment in March to look forward to.

I start listening to the perfect audiobook

When I’m not doing so great, Bridget Jones is my go-to comfort film. Because she’s not doing so great either, and yet she’s lovable just as she is.

Now, think of a modern Bridget Jones, but Australian. That’s the novel No Hard Feelings by Genevieve Novak. It’s so well-written and funny and self-deprecating and relatable and the audiobook narrator is amazing. Plus, the main character works in digital marketing, like me, and the job details are hilariously spot on. I love it.

I eat some greens and fruits

I make haloumi wraps with lots of greens, eat yoghurt and chia pudding with bananas, kiwi and pomegranate, and bake a feta and spinach pie. It’s yummy.

I walk a little

Having been sick, and had an endo flair, and been working from home a lot, and it being cold and snowy, my steps tracker is looking very sad. I lower my usual steps/day goal down to something that feels achievable to build back up to my normal level.

I clean and tidy

Powered with a coffee and a week of little acts of self-care, I finally get around to taking down the last Christmas decorations. I sort clothes in the wardrobe, clean the depressive kitchen counter, do a load of laundry, clean the bathroom, and water my poor surviving plants that made it through the big draught of winter 2025.

It feels pretty great.

Finally, finally, March

The last week of February, my job moves to a new office location. I find a nearby coffee shop that makes excellent latte and browse a cute little vintage store.

On the very last day of February on my way to the train to commute home, I spot a market stand selling tulips. I buy a bouquet of yellowy orange ones, wrapped in beautiful spring-vibey paper.

When I get home, I finally throw out the dry old bouquet. The fresh tulips stand tall and green and alive.

That weekend, I finally go for a walk in the forest. I make a highlights and reflections spread from February in my journal. I take out a yellow floral top from winter storage and wear it with a pair of light blue jeans.

Coming back from the local café, I spot something that makes me almost giddy. The geese have returned. A true spring sign if I ever saw one.

The sun comes out for a moment. The tulips have burst open, it’s 5-6 degrees and standing in the garden, it feels warm. I can imagine that life will return and bloom here once again. A sense of accomplishment passes through me. It did break my spirit a little, winter, but look who stands here victorious. February is gone, and here I am, and it’s March.

And though I will get another cold before I manage to get this post up, life is better. The sun keeps showing up. Spring lay before me. And I’m so here for it.