When the Weather Affects More Than Just My Hair

Last week, I attended a Presentation Skills course, and it turned out to be more meaningful than I expected. I thought I would learn about body language, tone, and structure. Instead, I found myself thinking about things that reached far beyond public speaking.

The trainer, who I’ll keep unnamed, was remarkable. She carried herself with calm confidence. She spoke with authority, but not in an intimidating way. She had a natural warmth and a deep understanding of her work and what she does — you could tell she had spent years doing what she does.

At one point, she mentioned that she is a completely different person outside the training room. That caught my attention. Here was a woman who owned the space, yet she was open about how different she feels in other settings. That struck a chord with me because I could relate.

People often see me as confident and outspoken, depending on where they meet me. But there are other sides to me — quieter, more reserved, sometimes hesitant. For a long time, I thought that meant I was inconsistent, but it doesn’t. I’ve realised that how I show up often depends on where I am and what’s required of me. Some spaces ask for strength, others for stillness. Both are genuine.

When the Wind Feels Personal

During the session, the trainer spoke about being aware of our environment — how the spaces we’re in, the sounds around us, and even the weather can affect how we feel.

She mentioned that some people are especially sensitive to weather changes, and that awareness of those patterns can help us understand ourselves better.

That statement stayed with me. It explained something I’ve never been able to put into words.

Growing up, windy days always made me feel uneasy. I can still remember how they sounded — the whistling through doors, the windows rattling, the trees moving harshly. I would start to feel lonely for no reason at all. Sometimes, it even felt like bad news was coming. Everything would seem heavy and gloomy.

Even now, I feel it. Windy weather makes me restless and uncomfortable. My skin dries out, my feet get cold, and my mood sinks. I love the ocean, but I don’t go as often as I’d like because it’s almost always windy near the coast. I never realised how much that played into it until now.

When the trainer spoke about how some people are affected by weather, it made sense. For years, I thought I was just being dramatic or overly sensitive. But it’s real. My body reacts, and so does my mood.

Still Processing What It Means

I’ve been thinking a lot about what the trainer said that day. She shared so many thoughtful insights, and she made it clear that none of it was meant to be the final truth. It was guidance, shaped by years of experience in what she does.

But some of what she said resonated deeply. It made me more aware of how much my environment influences me — not just the weather, but the light in a room, the energy of a space, even the pace of the day.

I’m still processing all of it. I’m not trying to fix anything or define it neatly. I’m simply noticing how certain things affect me, and that awareness alone already feels like progress.

Listening to What My Body Tells Me

The body often feels things before the mind catches up.

On windy days, I can feel the shift almost immediately. My focus fades, my energy dips, and my thoughts scatter. It’s not that something is wrong; it’s just my body responding to the world around me.

I’ll stopped trying to push through it. Instead, I’ll adjust. I’ll stay indoors if I can, wrap myself in something warm, and give myself space to settle. It doesn’t change the weather, but it will help me stay grounded while it passes.

A Quiet Realisation

That course taught me more than presentation techniques. It reminded me how connected everything is — our bodies, our moods, our environments, and even the memories we carry from childhood.

The weather doesn’t just change the sky. It changes how I move through the day and how I relate to myself.

I may never enjoy windy weather, but I understand it better now. It’s a reminder that self-awareness starts small — by noticing what affects you, and by allowing yourself to feel it without judgment.