go slowly

there's a way out

december 31st came around and left without so much as a so long, sucker. how funny it is- that a year so imbued with grief and loss so deep that it left me unmoored, struggling against the tide, could simply bookmark itself as just another chapter in the history book. towards the end of 2024, i started to become desperate. although i knew deep down that the arrival of january the 1st, being as it was, smack bang in the middle of the week, was nothing other than a symbol of a new year rather than some physical dusting off of my hands and turning the page.

there was no evidence to prove that come that wednesday, i would feel shiny and new, my blood pressure steadily levelling, the skin of my face suddenly softer and brighter. and yet it was all i could do not to breathe a sigh of relief when i woke up that morning and let my tired eyes come into focus on that first little square on the calendar, the first day of the new year.

for my own sake, i tried not to be so completely animated, my foolish attempt at keeping blasé so as to avoid changing the mind of the wind and make the universe decide, let’s just keep the old tape rolling. i craved a new, better story, signs of calm after the storm, sun rays breaking through hardened clay. my back has become stiff and unsteady, and my hands have a phantom tremor- this past year has been emotionally expensive, and i am at my last ‘it’ll be okay’.

but you’ll find, as we all do when january seems to disappoint us in a way we can never truly describe, that we pour so much of our hope into this one month, begging it to be something greater than perhaps it is capable of, that the pressure of a new start has us crumbling before february has the chance to step foot onto the pitch. the main driving factor? i would argue, is the frost sealing our car doors shut in the morning, the black ice that makes walking a few feet feel like a nightmare episode of squid game.

winter reaches its peak around the same time our bank accounts are grounding us for going mad in the holiday sales, and leaves january to deal with the slow, dreary seasonal finale of frost somehow finding itself on the inside of your windows and the frustration of never having shoes with the right grip.

to say the least, it’s an arduous time of year. the sun goes away for long hours at a time and only appears when it feels like it, the sky is a dizzying blank canvas of static white that hurts to stare at, and no amount of layers can keep your hands from going red and dry. i say this knowing that in my previous post i talked about how winter was something to fall in love with the way a child does with making snow angels, with a renewed excitement each year, but hey, new year new take right? i’m kidding, but for the sake of the argument i’m taking a while to get to, let’s focus on the negatives for now.

it’s not all bad though- i have a proposition.

so here we are, a few days into the new year, our list of resolutions sat idly in the front pages of our journals, feeling like if only the ice would melt a little we could maybe get a move on with, well, getting a move on. january, the month of limited patience. then, a few days ago in a conversation with a friend, who i hadn’t spoken to since last year (get it? haha. ha. sorry.) something they said struck me hard because despite the simplicity of it, i realised i’d never thought about things that way.

‘i feel like my new year started around june, (last year).’ - the wheels in my brain start to spin. june, with spring settling back on its hind legs and curling up for a long rest, summer nipping at its heels. june, when the leaves are almost at their greenest, and the air is so fresh it feels like bathing in the purest of water. the beginning of the warmest season, golden sun flush against your skin, and your phone pings to remind you to wear your spf. who wouldn’t feel renewed in june?

all winter long you’ve been hard at work trying to slot pieces into place that feel mismatched, and perhaps that feeling of worry is starting to take root, because it’s a couple of months into what was your brand new calendar and every ticked off day is a day you feel like you’re missing something.

but then, one day, you decide it’s okay to go outside without a jacket, and the day stretches on mercifully so that the tasks you’ve been putting off suddenly fit right into your schedule. as cliche as it may feel, the sun represents optimism. it radiates an energy that makes your hope finally feel understood, and things start to align a bit better. why can’t your new year start with the rebirth of the trees? you’ve watched them begin to bud in the early days of april and may, and now they’re ready to bloom. when the sun hits each petal of a blossom tree, you almost see your face through its shadow, sparkling with vigour. this, this is your new beginning.

because in winter, the trees lay barren, a sign that the cycle has come to an end. january and february represent a sort of epilogue. for nature, for us. those short days where daylight is almost a rare blessing and plans get cancelled because it’s minus degrees come to a fluttery end, huffed away with the last cold breath of the season. and you enter spring with a skip in your step, knowing that soon the time for those hearty walks you go on with your friends will be back, and you’ll feel driven and confident in a way sometimes only bearing your bare face to a scorching sun can give you.

it’s starting to make a bit more sense, right?

so here it is. go ahead, make that list of things you’re going to do, or do better, or never do again. the notion of a universal ‘let’s try that again’ will always hold significance, because we humans are creatures of habit who thrive on interconnection, and it’s always easier to do something if you’re doing it with someone else. but keep a side note besides your list of resolutions, a ‘p.s. there’s always next time, and next time is whenever you choose it to be’.

you don’t have to wait another 11 months if january doesn’t go the way you planned. take the dice and roll again, and maybe you’ll find that you just needed a little time to thaw before you could make some big changes. and if you need some sort of physical checkpoint, just for your peace of mind, nature has a new beginning in all its own ways every minute of every day, and the choice is yours to make. look to the cycle of the trees as your symbol of hope, make the turning of the wind the mark of your next chapter.

let the end of winter be the healing stage. give your weary bones time to rest. make peace with the waiting. and come summer, emerge spirited and know that you’re right on schedule, because it’s moulded to fit the rhythm of your heartbeat.

look outside, at the frost covering every surface and hiding away what you know- though it’s only for now. it’s the new year, but take it easy. and always remember that you still have time.

- zainab

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