Rewriting January
on rethinking the pressure to start over in the bleakest month.
Bleak, sterile, bitter. Trees without leaves twist and arch their backs against icy winds. The dream of fitter, healthier, stronger. These ideals are pushed upon us without relent—lingering in every corner, even down to the last crumbs of Christmas cupboard leftovers. The chewiest Quality Street clings to its wrapper like a stubborn reminder of December’s indulgence. January arrives, grey in both mind and sky.
Three, two, one… Happy New Year. And just like that, the decorations come down with quiet resignation. It’s time to shed the sparkle and slip into the season of you. No, not the that you. Not the comforting, self-care kind of you, but the one that demands improvement—look better, feel better, be better.
You parade around with your three litres of water, force down ten pages of that soul-numbing book, and meditate through gritted teeth, mentally counting tasks instead of finding peace. The streak always matters more than the purpose, right? Weekends are filled with little jobs, muffling the internal scream. Forced creativity, forced exercise, forced smiles—all uploaded to your grid. This is how we remake ourselves in January.
But why? Why do we choose the bleakest part of winter to reinvent ourselves? Stripping away the sparkle only to beat ourselves into new shapes. Nature remodels itself differently, stripping bare but never rushing the process. In winter, plants lie dormant, gathering strength below the surface, their roots tangling and growing quietly. Only when the time is right will they rise and bloom. Why must we think ourselves so different?
The shortest day has passed, yet we still linger on its edges, far from the warmth of spring. This is the season to take stock, to rest, to adorn ourselves with small joys that bring peace to heavy days. New Year’s resolutions are often abandoned by mid-month, leaving behind shame and guilt—stitched together into a new layer of self-reproach.
But what if we kept our intentions light? What if we built them slowly, like winter’s roots, testing and trialling until they fit? We could let the seasons guide us, shifting gently with the bulbs that wait for warmer days to bloom.
And who’s to say you need intentions at all? Why must January be a time for newness? It can simply be a time to undo the exhaustion of the year before. A time to rekindle forgotten passions, like the neglected watercolours at the back of a cupboard. Or to seek balance, between your work and yourself, between what you need and what you give.
Ultimately, rewriting January is a personal affair. For some, it’s a month of rest and reflection; for others, a gentle return to creativity. However the last twelve months have shaped you, you know deep down the tonic you need. For me, it’s rest, balance, and unwavering attention to creative pursuits—leading not with perfection in mind, but with curiosity in its place.
IKEA manuals and recipes have taught me to follow instructions to the letter, but this January, I’m trusting my gut. If you’re teetering on rewriting your month, here are a few ideas to guide you:
Daily journalling: Writing with abandon is a way to uncover what you truly need or want. Start unstructured, let the words come naturally, and build in prompts over time.
Align with nature: The other morning I spent a couple of hours gently pottering around the kitchen, stopping for long periods to watch a fairly rare bird hop around my garden. At first, I was slightly anxious as I had something else I needed to do, but instead, I chose that fleeting moment in time to appreciate nature. It’s healing to let the noticing of the seasonal outside take refuge in your brain for a while.
Test and trial: Think of January as a rough draft. Experiment with creative ideas or routines without committing fully. Don’t be afraid to pick up, try and drop. Not every twig makes for a good nest.
January holds the possibility of being a calming, cosy antidote to the months that demand so much more of us. Acting as nature intends isn’t failure—it’s rebellion. You deserve gentleness now, before spring calls you back into bloom.
Hopefully, you enjoyed this post, if you did I would be eternally grateful if you would share/restack so I can reach more people like you ♥️
Have a lovely day, Allie ☁︎
P.s. you can get 20% off paid subscriptions to A Very Good Day (for life) with the annual option until 31st January.