Easy does it
Why I’m actually glad I started 2026 sick in bed
Hello, and a very Happy New Year. It’s been a minute and, yes, this greeting is quite out of date as we are now practically midway through January. But, if you follow me on Instagram, you’ll have seen that I was struck down with a viral/sinus infection over the festive period, which is only just starting to clear up, although some lurgy still lingers. I basically survived the peak Christmas socialising through a combination of painkillers and prosecco - so, to be perfectly honest, it’s all a bit of a tinsel-strewn haze.
Now, I’m not usually one to suffer too badly when I catch a cold - I remember the worst part of having COVID for me was losing my sense of taste and smell - but boy oh boy did this thing knock me for six. I was bedbound for days, and our plans for memorable, magic moments with our little family went straight out the window, along with my desire to do anything other than fester in a duvet cocoon with copious amounts of Vicks vapour rub and pineapple juice.
Crap as I felt about starting 2026 with a constant raging headache and enough snot pouring from my nose to fill a bathtub, the forced rest did give me the perfect excuse to avoid the ‘new year new me’ bullshit hype, and ditch the performative, pressured idea of publicly declaring my resolutions for the months ahead. I had no headspace to think about what to cook for dinner (because, as we know, life doesn’t stop when you’re a sick mum), let alone what I wanted to achieve in 2026. What I did have time to do was think. Think about how I felt about the year that had just passed, about work, about relationships - about everything. It wasn’t through a lens of what could I have done better? What should I have done more of? There was no self-flagellation or regret over what had or hadn’t happened. It was simply a reflection of the last twelve months, and how I felt about them.
What came through most predominantly was that I had started to feel my creative spark creep back. After spending a few years just surviving through the chaotic clusterfuck that was early motherhood, during which all my brainpower was driven towards keeping myself and a small human alive, I had the time and headspace to start to engage with the things that bring me the most joy. Nurturing that tiny ember is going to be my biggest focus for the year ahead, during which I hope to be able to grow it into a furious flame of creative energy.
I also mused on some of the more difficult moments; the struggles with self-belief as I embedded myself in a new, more senior role at work, battling burnout, and feeling unfulfilled in a way I wasn’t able to explain or pinpoint. Now, I can identify that discontent as being due to not prioritising creative pleasure. The scales had tipped way off balance, and it was making me miserable.
Being the ripe old age of 35 I know myself pretty well at this point, and one thing I am absolutely certain of is that I need daily doses of creativity in order to thrive. Yes, I can survive without it, but it’s like living in a greyscale world; everything feels muted.
When I say creativity, I don’t just mean writing, or doing something crafty. I actually am notoriously terrible at most crafts (just asked the poor friend who tried to teach me how to sew; I was relegated to ironing the fabric). What I mean is doing something in my day that engages the part of my brain not related to household tasks, family management, life admin, or any of that other stuff. It could be going for a walk and admiring the way the light hits the trees. It could be listening to a really insightful podcast and going down a rabbit hole of discovering new ideas. It could be annotating the shit out of a book I just can’t put down. Or, it could be making up an elaborate game with my daughter while we play with her Lego. All of these things ignite something within me that makes me feel conscious and connected with the world.
And so I don’t have any lofty ambitions for 2026. I’ve written myself a 2026 bucket list in my journal, which comprises things such as ‘host a dinner party’ and ‘write more snail mail’. None of them require rigorous planning, or creating spreadsheets and flowcharts in order to figure out how to achieve them, and that feels wonderful. The pressure is well and truly off which, during the season when our animal friends are dedicating all their energy towards resting and preparing for Spring, feels like the right thing to do. The undue pressure that comes with the start of every new year seems to me like the most sure-fire way to set yourself up for 12 months of stress, guilt, and disappointment.
If I had to have one goal for 2026, it would be to prioritise creative pleasure. To write every day, by hand, in some form. To engage with the world around me through podcasts, articles, books, music and other forms of media. To always make the time for little snippets of creative thought or activity; to steal minutes usually taken over by cleaning or scrolling.
How about you?
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