Blog by Terri Negus.
I’m very good at looking after everyone else, but I’m not very good at looking after myself.
I don’t share this to present myself as selfless or to claim any kind of martyrdom. Rather, it reflects a reality familiar to many celebrants: self-care is often the first thing to be pushed aside. This isn’t a role where you can call in sick and retreat under a duvet for the day. The sense of responsibility and commitment runs deep—because who would want to let down a grieving family on the day they say goodbye to a loved one, or disappoint a marrying couple on one of the most meaningful days of their lives? And so, even when we’re running on empty, we get up, we show up, and we give everything we have to meet the moment and honour those who are counting on us.
I finished 2025 with a complex of emotions; elated that after years of struggling with my weight I’d lost 8.5 stone in 12 months, – yet at the same time of having another year of constantly giving my all both personally and professionally, I was also on my knees with exhaustion and anxiety, feelings which I have mastered the art of ‘masking’ to perfection over the years, even though they quietly take their toll beneath the surface.
Today I went to see a Bowen therapist for a lymphatic drainage massage (something I have been doing to aid my weight loss) but the therapist took one look at me and said “you look really stressed” I actually wanted to cry – I felt a bit like Eeyore when he says “thanks for noticing me”. She was the first person who noticed my weakness when everyone else only ever comments about how strong and resilient I am. I instantly felt both vulnerability and relief, someone saw beneath the mask I’d been wearing, and the trying to be ‘all things to all people…except to myself’
We chatted for a while and she got out her phone and showed me these words written by poet and author, Donna Ashworth.
The words resonated with me, as they reflected exactly how my December had been and how I was feeling as we moved into January. I know they will resonate with many others too, which is why I felt compelled to share them here:
For many, January is a hard, cold month…
When everyone is setting new goals, laying down righteous ground rules and striving to become a better version of themselves, some of us are fighting to find our feet each day…
You see, December is a month of giving, and some of us, come January, are completely and utterly spent.
A month of remembering everyone and remembering absolutely everything.
A month of including everyone and of reaching out to each and every person we have ever known.
A month of reaching breaking point every day trying to have fun, to be the ultimate hostess, to be the perfect guest.
A month of stretching ourselves financially, emotionally and of letting our boundaries be breached by many… in the spirit of the season.
And then January hits and bam… before we can even begin the arduous task of clearing away the festivities, we are expected to jump on the ‘new year, new you’ bandwagon and transform ourselves entirely.
For some of us this is just too much.
January is the darkest and most depressing month of the year and for many sensitive souls, the barrage of ‘advice’ on how we ‘should’ be living, is just too much.
So perhaps this is a safe place to say that maybe it’s okay to take a week or two to recover and to just be kind to ourselves before demanding better.
And for those of us who really do fall low in the darkest month of the year. For those of us who have given too much and to whom the future looks bleak – perhaps this is the right place to say – you are absolutely fine the way you are. Just stay.
Take some time to breathe.
Take some time to not think about anything much at all except breathing in and breathing out.
Take some time to build back up, not tear your yourself down.
For many, this month is a mountain that looks unclimbable.
Be kind, my friends. Always.
Donna Ashworth
Be kind, always – that includes being kind to ourselves. So let’s all allow ourselves some time to embrace the concept of ‘wintering’
Wintering invites us to remember that we are not separate from nature, but woven into its rhythms. Just as the earth tilts away from the sun and growth slows, our own bodies and minds sense the call to soften, to quiet, to conserve. Trees do not apologise for shedding their leaves, nor does the soil rush to bloom before its time. Nature honours the necessity of pause, and in doing so, teaches us that rest is not failure – it is wisdom.
In winter, energy turns inward. Beneath frozen ground, roots deepen and gather strength, preparing for what will come. This hidden work is essential, though it may look like stillness from the surface. We, too, need seasons where productivity gives way to reflection, where doing less allows us to listen more closely to what we need. Slowing down creates space for healing, clarity, and restoration that constant motion cannot provide.
When spring arrives, nature does not force its renewal; it emerges naturally from the rest that came before. If we allow ourselves to truly winter – to sleep more, expect less, and move gently, we mirror this same natural cycle of rejuvenation. By honouring rest as a natural and necessary phase of life, we return in our own time with renewed creativity, resilience, and life, ready to grow again.
