An Invitation from March

Jake Raynock, SWLC

There’s something beautiful about March. And it’s not just me knowing it’ll be “golfing weather” soon, but rather, March is a month of noticing the beauty in the imperfections as we transition from winter into spring. While the air still carries some bite and the trees are mostly bare, there is also the emergence of more light and the markers of life as the little green shoots force themselves through the frozen tundra. March acts as a mediator between seasons, sitting quietly and hardly noticeable at first, we see the world begin to thaw.

For many people, therapy works in a similar way. Winter has a way of restricting our lives, where days feel shorter, energy dips, motivation fades, and we can find ourselves moving through routines on autopilot, disconnected from others or from parts of ourselves. Sometimes the darkness isn’t seasonal, but rather emotional darkness from grief, anxiety, depression, burnout, relationship strain, shame, or old wounds that feel frozen in place.

And then something begins to change. The change is not drastic and it does not happen overnight, but rather, it's gradual, like the transition from winter to spring.

In therapy, the first signs of “spring” often look subtle. It could start with a client pausing and noticing their feelings instead of avoiding them, or a client who finds the courage to speak a truth out loud they’ve been carrying silently for years, or a client who begins to treat themselves with curiosity instead of criticism. For couples, signs of “spring” are subtle as well. It could start with interrupting a familiar argument pattern, or the couple choosing to express fondness and admiration instead of contempt and defensiveness. These are all the small shoots breaking through hard ground. In therapy, growth rarely arrives fully formed. Rather, it starts with awareness, with feeling safe, and with someone sitting beside you long enough for the ice to melt.

Winter can have the tendency to protect us by forcing us to rest and conserve our energy, but staying there too long can feel isolating. Spring reminds us that emerging doesn’t require perfection. Just like the bare trees don’t wait until conditions are ideal, but rather respond to the increasing light.

Therapy can become that light. Therapy does not force us to change. Rather, therapy acts as the space where light has the opportunity to emerge. The space can open a client to begin to feel, to reflect, to experiment with new ways of relating, to grieve what was, or the space to imagine what could be.

As a therapist, I often see clients surprised by their own resilience when they realize the once dormant parts of themselves were actually never gone. Instead, the most beautiful and dormant parts of themselves were waiting for their inner light to emerge from the dark.

Spring is not a clean transition. The snow melts into mud before flowers bloom, or there can be a late month freeze that feels like a setback or plateau. In therapy, this phase can feel uncomfortable, where old defenses loosen, where emotions begin to surface, or uncomfortable patterns become visible. This makes the once frozen and steady ground feel softer and less certain. But this softness is necessary. You cannot plant in frozen soil. March teaches us that transformation isn’t loud. The transition is patient, persistent, and sometimes messy. However, the once hardly noticeable changes are now hard to ignore, as they have become the ideal soil and foundations for growth. 

If winter has felt long, emotionally, relationally, or internally, this month can be your invitation to slow down and not rush, not force optimism, or not pretend everything is blooming and okay, but just to notice where light is already reaching you.

In therapy, we don’t manufacture spring. Rather, in therapy, we create the conditions ripe for change to take place. And clients are often surprised to find that what blossoms isn’t something new. Instead, it is a part of them that has been there all along, waiting for warmth.