On powering through January

My winter walk companion
 (from a gift as original as the friend who found this irresistible pair for me)

Ugh, the chronically dreaded month of January. On social media recently, I shared a sarcastic meme that I could relate to: ''In January, I am doing a challenge called January. It means getting through all the days of January''. Another went like this: ''January - (n.) A giant Monday''. In my blog from a year ago, I was describing what came after the holiday season as ''the nothing of a long 31-day month'', and I emphasized how such a ''relative nothing'' was challenging for the energy level, the motivation when it was so cold, humid and still dark early... I still remember the tsunami of despair washing over me while in medical school, sleep-deprived because of 12-h night shifts during my Ob-Gyn rotation, as I was caught in a battle against exhaustion itself, drooling on my textbooks, between unhealthy food cravings... 

Additionally, January repeats some emotional anniversaries for me. A beloved grandmother passed 15 years ago during this month, a dear uncle 13 years ago, and I migrated to the USA 18 years ago, pregnant of my first son, and experiencing a cultural shock as I was building a life as an expat and a new mother, away from my roots, my cues (especially the snow and the four distinct seasons) and beloved Canada.

This year, I started the month on a more positive note. The good weather this past week helped me recharge and I have some insights and tips I would like to share. First of all, I avoided excesses during the holidays. In fact, eating less sweets makes me crave them even less... Therefore, I continue to expand my repertoire of healthy recipes. Feeding the temple that is my body with real food gives me an improved sense of wellbeing and energy, which supports my motivation to exercise daily. In turn, exercising daily gives me gratitude for my mobility and endurance, which then reinforces the desire to eat healthy. Diet and exercise go hand in hand.

The days are getting a bit longer each day, but it still gets dark around dinner time. I found a way to trick myself into feeling like the day is longer by going on a walk right around the sunset. I did so today, and I had the beautiful full moon as a bonus light. Walking before dinner basically allows me to stretch the day, so to speak. Once my body gets active and needs to move faster to warm up, I get more energy rather than the low feeling I used to experience for so many winters of my life. It gives me a boost to do an activity or task in the evening, like organizing my papers, sketching, doing the dishes or writing a blog rather than crashing on my couch. And if you live in a climate that is too harsh and cold to spend time outside, you can still exercise indoors doing yoga, jump on a mini trampoline or improvise dance moves as if your life drama had suddenly turned into a musical.

I also cherish the hygge lifestyle more. There is always a warm, fuzzy blanket ready to envelope me on the couch. I have books to read in every room. I have candles near my bathtub. 

Adding some novelty like going to a café or boutique you have never been to (I went to a cool bookstore and a clothing store near my work during my lunch break on Friday, and a new coffee shop with a friend today) can keep you engaged and stimulated.

And one way to keep welcoming the good is a resolution that is realistic, within reach, easy to implement. For instance, I am trying to do a work email or digital detox more consistently. And this happened naturally because of all of the above that took precedence. I have been avoiding my work email for over 48 h two weekends in a row, and I intend to continue that trend. Emails are saturated with soporific info that we need to process. So I allow myself to focus on recharging rather than accessing and deleting a lot of irrelevant communications. As a result, I notice that I have more time and energy to walk (sometimes twice a day) and notice a moon crescent and the explosion of colors of a sunset in one shot, or the sudden incandescence of the fox on my mitt as I try to shield my eyes from some aggressive flashing lights during my promenade in the quiet, enchanting neighborhood.