Dormant, Not Defeated: What My Winter Garden Teaches Me About Living With Bipolar Disorder

Kaye-d-ann Henry
Jan 1
3 min read

A January Garden: Quiet, Bare, and Full of Promise

January is not the most glamorous month in the garden.

There are no flowers to photograph, no scent in the air, no colour to chase. Just bare stems, pruned frameworks, and soil resting quietly beneath winter skies.

And yet — this is one of the most honest moments of the year.

This is when I feel closest to my garden, and closest to myself.

Gardening for Mental Health: Why I Started Tending a Garden While Living With Bipolar Disorder

I didn’t begin gardening because I wanted a “perfect” garden.

I began because I needed something steady when my mind felt anything but.

Living with bipolar disorder means living in cycles — energy rises, energy falls, and sometimes everything pauses altogether. For a long time, I judged myself harshly during the quieter seasons. I thought I was failing. Falling behind. Not doing enough.

The garden gently challenged that belief.

Every winter, my plants retreat. They conserve energy. They rest — not because they are weak, but because they are wise.

Gardening became a place where I could place my emotions safely, without needing to fix them. A place where I could show up as I was and still feel purposeful.

Roses in Winter: Strength, Resilience, and Blooming Again

Roses are the backbone of my garden, and in many ways, they mirror my own mental health journey.

Right now, they look stark — pared back to strong frameworks. But those cuts are not an ending; they are an act of trust. The roses know they will bloom again.

From deeply romantic varieties like Gertrude Jekyll, Mme Isaac Pereire, and Constance Spry, to joyful, glowing roses such as The Poet’s Wife, Lady of Shalott, and Olivia Rose Austin, each one carries its own rhythm and personality.

Some roses bloom early. Some wait. Some climb slowly towards the light.

The garden reminds me that we don’t all flourish in the same way — and we don’t have to.

Hydrangeas in Winter: Finding Stability and Structure During Low-Energy Seasons

In winter, hydrangeas are all about structure.

Their woody frameworks stand patiently, protecting next season’s buds. They are not rushing. They are not proving anything.

Varieties like Limelight, Annabelle, Incrediball, and Little Lime Punch teach me the value of reliability and consistency — especially during emotionally uncertain times.

Even without flowers, hydrangeas are doing important work.

And so are we, even when it doesn’t look like much from the outside.

Peonies and Patience: Trusting Growth You Cannot Yet See

Peonies ask for faith.

Right now, there’s almost nothing to see above ground — just marked crowns beneath the soil. But peonies already know what they are capable of becoming.

When Bartzella, Hawaiian Coral, or Duchesse de Nemours finally bloom, they do so briefly and abundantly.

They remind me that not everything has to last forever to be meaningful. Sometimes the most beautiful moments arrive after long periods of waiting.

Dormancy and Mental Health: Why Rest Is Not Failure

This winter garden mirrors my experience of living with bipolar disorder in ways I never expected.

It has taught me that:

Rest is productive
Cycles are natural
Pauses are purposeful

Dormancy is not defeat.

It is preparation.

If you’re in a quieter season right now — low energy, low motivation, or simply needing more gentleness — I hope this reminds you that nothing is wasted. Growth is still happening, even if you can’t see it yet.

Creating Gentle Routines and Supportive Homes With Bipolar Disorder

Through Bliss in Bipolar coaching, I support women living with bipolar disorder to create lives that honour their natural rhythms — rather than constantly pushing against them.

That might look like: