January, friend or foe?

Falling in love with trying

January is like the child with an overbearing parent, never able to just be. Under so much pressure that it can never form an identity of its own. January wants a cosy night in and to ease into the year slowly, and yet, we make it a Monday morning meeting led by the perkiest of Managers. Your coffee is barely down your throat, and you’ve already got an impossible list of tasks and a determination to work harder than ever before.

This year, the type B managers rolled in and told us, “You don’t have to do anything, it’s winter. Wait until spring comes around.” Put off your self-improvement until nature is ready to begin again, and you will be too. So you’re left with two options: suck it up and get your life in order now, or… do it later.

Checking in with yourself isn’t a bad thing. We need to ask ourselves what we want and how we can get there. What I struggle with is the push to take one or ten thousand steps towards the top, and if you’re striving for perfection, that staircase never stops. If each year is a measure of how good we are at being a human, and you’ve got nothing that aligns with the list you made by the start of the next one, you’re failing at life. So January becomes a month of feeling like a failure and hibernating to get through it, or feeling like a failure and building lists of habits and goals to ensure you won’t feel like one next time…until life happens and January is over and you’ve not quite managed to change your whole routine and next month is also pretty busy actually and maybe March will be your month. For most of us living in grey, rainy and cold atmospheres at this time of year, we’re probably not bossing it as hard as we want to be, or feel we should be. January isn’t our best friend, but it doesn’t have to be our enemy either.

This year, I let January be a good neighbour, the kind you always enjoy saying hello to and would help out if they were in need of a last-minute cat sitter or someone to fix their TV. I welcomed it without asking for anything, I lived without setting expectations and didn’t shut down or step up. This is what I learned:

The best part of my month was connecting with people. If you had asked me that at the start, I would have told you I was overstimulated and done socialising after the beast that is Christmas and New Year. I’d had a great time, but I was ready to hibernate. On reflection, what I wanted was a slower pace, to eke out the moment, to read for more than twenty minutes, to go to the cinema instead of the pub and have meandering conversations that were not about plans but about existing.

I was lucky enough to stay with friends on the other side of the world and be taken care of in candlelight, catching up over cups of tea. I went to Canada for work, a training week at a camp in the forest, where I got to spend time with a community of facilitators who lift each other up and commit to the present. We played games, chatted at camp dining tables, and caught up on the year that had passed since we last saw each other. We sang around campfires and toasted marshmallows that got stuck to our fingers. The days were long and full of content, but we showed up for each other and contributed. We agreed and disagreed, we asked and listened, we shared and held. I was jet-lagged, my brain struggled to function in a classroom-style setup, and there were times when I felt like I was getting everything wrong, and so it was challenging too. The neurospicy shame that spikes up for me in educational settings is a constant unlearning, and no matter how far I come on that journey, it is always with me. But the kindness of the people around me kept me afloat, and so did the nature surrounding us. It’s much easier to feel grounded when the trees tower over you, a skyline of silhouettes against the melting pinks of the sky. Even in the rain, slipping through muddy trails, coat still damp from the day before, the babbling of the brook whispers that we’re all made up of the same energy here, and that is enough to let your worries loosen their grip.

Home was calling, and so was my book, which I listened to for the whole ten-hour plane journey, and arrived back in London mid-month. Reality came crashing down like my overfilled laundry basket full of smoky clothes. Even without a list of things to change about myself, my workload had filled up my calendar, and all I could see was a marathon ahead. Just keep running. I fell into February, knees weak, but with more than one sprint still to go, and I heard myself say, “I need to work on my time-management skills,” for the one hundredth time. I contemplated if this whole ‘make new rules January’ thing wasn’t such a bad idea until I faced that where we fall in the year isn’t going to inspire me to become a new person, and even if it could, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m accepting that wanting change and making changes are different modes. We’re changing all the time, especially when we’re not looking out for it. It’s inside the doing and the being that it’s happening—only afterwards can we feel the difference.

And I feel different. Underneath the tiredness and the busyness, there’s a sense of calm. I’m here right now and not projecting into the future. I’m willing to be messy without bullying myself to be better. I’m surrounded by love, and I’m grateful. I’m not afraid of being alone because I’ve got stories to keep me company. I’m willing to bound forward into the year without markers and checkboxes. Taking my dreams and embedding them into my days so that I can live within them and not in search of them. I don’t want to be the kid who grew up with their life planned out, robbed of discovery. I want to be a kid, at least for one moment, in every one of my days, and I want to fail because I tried to do everything and nothing all at the same time. So here I am, years after I planned to write on here, not letting the failure of time stop me from trying again.

January standouts:

Books:

First-Time Caller by B.K. Borison - super cute and funny radio station rom-com inspired by Sleepless in Seattle.

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske - a slowburn queer romance on a magical Victorian adventure.

Movies:

Marty Supreme - no one changes, it’s chaos, side quests and a wild ride.

H is for Hawk - a beautiful adaptation of the memoir, and the way the light pours into the frame is nothing short of stunning. I read the book years ago, when the pain was not my own. Watching the film now ripped open my heart, letting shards of grief slip out to make space for more acceptance. The gift of telling your story so that others can heal with you.

TV:

Abbott Elementary - now on its fifth season and still going strong, this sitcom set in a Philadelphia elementary school never fails to make me smile.

The Traitors (UK)- Queen Claudia and my favourite winners’ journey of all time, reality TV at its finest.

Food:

Xi’an BiangBiang Noodles, Covent Garden - got the chef-recommended hand-pulled noodles with beef in special sauce and gobbled them up so quickly I was already dreaming of the next visit.

Home-cooked Sunday Roasts - filled with warmth, love and goodness. I’m grateful that a roast is an all-year-round event in the UK, not just for Christmas.

Until next time and with love,

Rachel x