The Push and Pull of Early January

From Thanksgiving to New Year’s, life feels like a nonstop sprint. The days are filled with gatherings, celebrations, and so much hustle—socializing, shopping, cooking, traveling, and just… doing. Joy is everywhere, but so is stimulation. The world seems alive, twinkling, buzzing with energy.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it’s over.

After New Year’s Day, the streets aren’t busy anymore. The parking lots are empty. The twinkle lights are gone. Everything feels darker, quieter, and strangely dreary. And if I’m being honest, I feel drained.

There’s this noticeable shift back to “real life.”
Schedules return. Alarms go off again. Bags sit by the door. Lunches get packed. Even the house feels quieter somehow. The slow mornings disappear, replaced by routines and responsibilities, and it all happens so fast it’s almost jarring.

But here’s the funny thing—I also feel ready.
Ready for a new year.
A fresh start.
A chance to grow, change, and become a better version of myself.

And yet… I also want to retreat.

I want a hot cup of coffee by the fire, sweatpants and fuzzy socks. My hair in a messy bun. Who are we kidding it always is in some kind of wild swept up bun, and I want to do nothing at all. I want to sit in the quiet and just exist for a moment after months of go-go-go.

If you pay attention to the world around you, it almost feels intentional. Summer is bright and light. Fall bursts with color. But winter? Winter is muted. Bare trees. Early darkness. Soft skies filled with gray and blue. Maybe nature is reminding us that this isn’t the season to go full throttle. Maybe it’s quietly telling us to slow down, to rest, to reflect before everything blooms again. Maybe it is also telling me to step out of my comfort zone and create in this mood that winter paints for us.

This is the push and pull of early January—the tension between ambition and exhaustion. Wanting to charge ahead while also feeling completely depleted. The last few months have been overwhelming, and throw in weeks of sickness—strep, viruses, stomach bugs, pneumonia—and suddenly the energy I had for big plans feels scattered and thin.

I feel antsy. I feel exhausted. I feel stressed because I want to have accomplished more already. And then I remind myself—it’s only the second week of January.

If you’re a creative, a parent, or someone who thrives on being busy, you probably know this season well. January through April can feel heavy. Slow. Uncomfortable. Especially if you don’t do well with downtime and quiet.

So maybe this is the reminder we all need: it’s okay to feel torn. It’s okay to want more while also needing rest. It’s okay to ease into the year instead of sprinting into it. The quiet isn’t failure—it’s preparation.

So today, I’ll sip my coffee a little slower. I’ll sit in the stillness a little longer. I’ll let myself feel both the hope of a new beginning and the need for rest while creating ideas in my fuzzy socks.

Because this season—much like winter itself—isn’t meant to rush us. It’s meant to hold us gently before everything starts moving again.

And if you’re feeling this too, just know—you’re not alone. This is a weird time. And it’s okay to meet it exactly where you are.