I always try not to think beyond the end of the year because if I do, the dreaded reality will kick in. I have learnt huge lessons during the past few years. Now, 2025 is done and dusted, the mood of partying has died a sudden death and your bank account makes you weep.
You have officially entered the longest period of penny-pinching that returns like clockwork each year. January should not be called a month. It should be deemed a social experiment designed to test human endurance, patience and willpower.
While most months politely pass in 30 or 31 days, January stretches itself to a solid 60, sometimes 70, depending on how often you check the calendar. January should be about a new year, a new you. Resolutions, fresh notebooks and possibly a gym membership you’ll soon pretend never happened.
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Day three hits and suddenly it feels like you’ve been here since 1998. The first challenge is financial survival. December spent your money with confidence and no regret.
January came with a huge calculator. Your bank account looks as if it’s on life support and you start doing the mental maths in shops. Emotional fatigue sets in.
The festive glow has vanished. There are no holidays in sight. Everyone is cranky, overheated and pretending they’re “excited to be back at work”.
The phrase, “Happy New Year”, now sounds aggressive. Time distortion follows. You check the date.
It’s the 9th. You sigh with relief. Two hours later you check again.
Still the 9th. January doesn’t move fast, it enjoys our struggle. How does one survive another January?
I usually lower my expectations. The month is not for productivity, it’s for basic functioning.
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