Coming Out of Hibernation

I’ve never liked New Year’s Eve.

There, I’ve said it.

I hate fireworks, I don’t drink alcohol, I’d rather be at home than at a party, and I resent having to stay up till midnight to listen to the chimes of Big Ben when I could be tucked up in bed with a good book - especially since The Husband is usually at work at that time, so what’s the point?

But also I think it might be because my mum didn’t like it either. I remember, when I was little, that she always cried and got very depressed at the end of December as the big day approached. She loved Christmas, but once the excitement of that was over she’d sink back into depression. She told me once that New Year’s Eve always made her think of her dad (who died when I was seven), but I’m not sure why that would be, or if it was even true. She didn’t have the best relationship with him, and it wasn’t near his birthday or the anniversary of his death. I’ve never known if she just said that because she didn’t want to tell me the real reason, or if she honestly didn’t know why she felt that way about New Year’s Eve. I just know that, growing up, I started to associate the occasion with sadness and regret.

I think the other problem with New Year’s Eve is that there’s so much pressure on us to make resolutions. I mean, think how crazy that is! We’re in the depths of winter. Everyone’s broke after the excesses of Christmas spending. The weather’s rubbish. It’s back to college/uni/work and there’s nothing ahead but weeks and weeks of grey skies, rain, and slaving away at our academic work or jobs. So naturally, we all decide to punish ourselves by promising to give up drink/chocolate/slobbing around/ and make ourselves gulp down more water, eat salads and go to the gym. Ugh!

I mean, I say “we”…

If all the courses are like this I think I’m going to have to call at McDonald’s on the way home…

I did consider making one New Year’s resolution, which was to keep a diary. I used to keep one, years ago. I would buy the Dairy Diary from the milkman (remember milkmen?) every year, and I was surprisingly committed to it. I’d write in it every single evening without fail, and I kept that up for about nine or ten years. I really wish I’d kept those diaries because I’d love to look back on them now. They were written in some of the most traumatic years of my life, and boy, would they be fascinating to read! But I moved house and destroyed them before I left, so that’s that. Since then, I’ve tried a few times to keep another diary but never managed it. My brain seems to work differently these days, and when I thought about it more honestly, I realised that this year wouldn’t be any different, so I didn’t bother.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the whole idea of resolutions for January 1st was ridiculous. It’s just another winter’s day (do I hear David Essex?) and that, instead of promising myself that I’d change/transform/become a whole new person, what I should be promising myself was to snuggle down, be kind to myself, and see out the winter months the best way I could.

I’ve finally accepted that December, January and February are really difficult months for me, and I don’t think I’m alone. The miserable weather and dark nights make it hard to feel positive when you’re trying to be all bright and energetic and full of enthusiasm.

If you ask me, some of our native animals have the right idea. They hibernate until the worst is over. This year, I decided to do the same.

Hedgehogs are so smart!

Anyone who knows me knows that I love a to-do list, and that my to-do lists are endless. I’ve always got dozens of tasks to tick off. But as the dark nights drew in and my spirits started to sink, I finally admitted to myself that I didn’t want to tick off all those tasks. I didn’t want to be sitting at my desk every day for hours on end, doing this thing and that thing and rushing to the next job. I was tired. I was burned out. I was low in energy.

So I did something radical. I hibernated.

Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I fully admit it. I’m incredibly lucky to have a job working from home. My commute is climbing the stairs, and I am forever grateful for that fact. But that doesn’t mean I don’t work hard. My children would tell you that when they come to visit, I’m nearly always upstairs at my computer, working on something or other, and they get quite offended when I tell them I’m too busy to come downstairs and spend hours chatting to them.

I have pointed out, on several occasions, that if I was still at my old job they wouldn’t turn up at the door of the medical centre and demand that I drop everything to talk to them, so why is this different? But they never see that, and they get quite annoyed about it. (Well, some of them do, mentioning no names…)

So yes, just because I work from home doesn’t mean I’m not working hard. Far from it. I’m self-employed. I have bills to pay. I need to work! And taking time off was something I instinctively felt guilty about for a long time.

But in December, that changed. I changed. In an act of rebellion that I’m quite proud of actually, I took the whole month off. Apart from the odd social media post and my newsletter, I did nothing remotely relating to my job. I just didn’t have the energy or the interest. I read books. So many books. And I watched Christmas films. And I wrapped presents. And I listened to Christmas music. And I let the magic of the season wash over me.

Did I feel guilty? Of course! But I told myself firmly that, come January, once I’d got the big bad “New Year” out of the way, I’d be back at my desk and raring to go. But when January 2nd rolled around, I wasn’t raring to go at all. I felt as tired as ever, and if anything, even less inclined to get back “out there”. During 2025 I’d written four books, had three published and was gearing up for a fourth publication day, dealt with uncertainty around my husband’s job, and lost my mum - as well as all the other things that came with those events and more.

I think by the end of the year I was just shutting down. I’d locked the door, put the chain on, and turned the “Open” sign to “Closed Until Further Notice”.

Of course, I had to do some things. I had a book to proofread, another to plot, and a publication day to promote in January. I did those things because it’s my job and my responsibility, and I have a duty to keep my commitments - to myself and to my publisher. But honestly, being on social media was so hard. The sheer nastiness of some people was draining and depressing. I’ve barely looked at my accounts for weeks and I have to say it’s done me the power of good.

No! Don’t make me go back there!

I looked at my to-do list for January, and my to-do list for February, and do you know what I did? I ignored them both!

Yes, me, the Queen of To-Do Lists! I studied them carefully, asked myself how important any of those things were, and realised that, actually, I could put off nearly everything at least until the spring.

So that’s what I did. I spent January doing the absolute bare minimum.

Now it’s February and I’m writing my next book, writing a couple of blog posts, and doing the odd post on social media. I’ll write my next newsletter, too. Other than that, I’m spending my time with The Husband and doing a lot of reading.

I think The Universe was giving me a nudge into doing this actually, because not only have I been struggling with health issues that have affected my mobility for a long time (hoping to have an op later in the year that will help, fingers crossed) but my poor husband hurt himself and has been unable to walk without crutches! It’s meant that, even if we wanted to, we couldn’t go out anywhere. Perfect excuse to extend the hibernation period and take stock.

But March is on its way (don’t you think this year is flying by already?) and it will soon be spring.

I have declared that March 1st is my New Year from now on. I want to spend every winter being gentle with myself, doing the things that make me happy, being with people I love, safe and warm inside with a good book and the fairy lights on (I never take them down!) and not putting too many demands upon myself.

Come March and it will be back to work properly. The to-do lists will return and I’ll start ticking things off. I’m hoping the lighter nights and (fingers crossed!) warmer, drier weather, will lift my spirits and give me more emotional and physical energy.

HOWEVER - I think I have learned that life doesn’t have to be so frantic, and that maybe - just maybe - I was filling my days with a lot of tasks that weren’t really necessary. If I could push so many things aside and not worry about them for months without the sky falling in, maybe a lot of the things that I thought I simply MUST do weren’t so important after all. And maybe I’ll finally start to prioritise, and make sure that I’m only doing what I really need to do, leaving more time for the things that I really want to do.

Ooh, I can get behind this to-do list!

So since March 1st is my New Year, here are my - not resolutions - promises to myself:

1. I’ll learn to say no - politely but firmly - to things I’m not really interested in.

2. I’ll stop worrying about missing out on anything. If I’m not there, so what? I’ll politely refuse to go to events that I don’t really want to attend just because I feel as if I’ll be the only one not present. I won’t be. And even if that were true, does it matter? (No.) Say No to FOMO!

3. I’ll stop saying “I should” and start asking myself, “Do I want to? And is it really necessary?”

4. I’ll prioritise the commitments I’ve made to myself and to other people, but beyond that make the most of my spare time instead of looking for more tasks to fill my days.

5. I’ll stop thinking that being busy = good, and having leisure time = bad. We have such a weird culture of filling our days with work, work, work, and feeling really guilty if we take time off to just enjoy ourselves. When did this become normal? When I was at the day job, I had five weeks paid holiday every year, plus bank holidays, and up to six weeks of paid sick leave. Working for myself I’ve pushed on through illness, forcing myself to sit at the desk and write when I should have been tucked up under a blanket sucking throat lozenges and binge watching Netflix. I’ve taken my laptop on holiday with me and worked at the kitchen table when I should have been out having fun with my family. No more!

So yes, I’m getting ready to come out of hibernation, but it will be a brave new world I emerge into. One that works better for me and helps me to keep burnout and depression at bay - hopefully! Here’s to a brighter - and drier - spring!

Happy New Year!