January is frequently described as the saddest month, a claim some British researchers attribute to post-holiday fatigue. The writer, however, sees merit in the discussion and invites a closer look, recognizing that the feeling resonates with many while offering space for a different take.
With the festive bells faded, the fur coat put away, and the champagne emptied, the January lull can bite hard. The days stretch, rest becomes comfortable, and the urge to do nothing yawns in with a strange purpose. The cycle begins again—choose, order, arrange, cook, eat, clear the table, wash the dishes. The celebrations and toasts of New Year seem to promise a brighter year, yet January often lands with a practical, everyday edge. It can feel like a reset that taxes the wallet and the patience, and the house fills once more with gifts that go unused—handmade soaps, loose-leaf teas, quirky figurines, calendars of every kind.
Delivery is free in many places, yet purchases still need to be made. The convenience is real, but the act of choosing and paying remains essential to unlock it.
And so the cycle repeats—the choosing, ordering, arranging, cooking, eating, clearing the table, washing the dishes. The hopes spoken with clinks of glasses at New Year linger, but the real days often look much like the ones just passed. January 3, 2025 can feel similar to December 3, 2024, only less forgiving. At the start of December, thoughts turned to garlands for the tree and the gifts Santa would bring; by month’s end, the decorations crumble, bulbs burn out, and the home fills with well-meaning gifts that feel unnecessary: handmade soaps, loose-leaf teas, stray figurines, and calendars of every conceivable kind.
A stark truth lies ahead: the outside remains dark, and March 8 is still distant. The only hopeful moment seems to hover around Valentine’s Day, a holiday some deem bourgeois, yet one that has become deeply rooted in the culture.
For the writer, January is often hard. Some people insist the month flies by thanks to holidays, while spring offers a promise that it will arrive soon. The writer envies those optimists. January feels not only the saddest month but the longest; it carries a binge in the early days and a fierce remorse for what has been done, storing temptations at fairs, skating rinks, exhibitions, and theater visits with prices that can rival a meal for two. Each day seems to demand plans, even a quick walk or a run, so couch time feels out of place unless company is missing. The festive mood ends the same every year: reality returns and work beckons.
Has anyone noticed the odd sensation when stepping outside for the first time in January? The world appears to plead for change, yet everything remains the same. Streets look quiet, faces carry perplexed looks, and the hopes pinned to new intentions seem momentarily fragile. Still, people venture out in search of movement and momentum, as if the arena were large and a little unsettled.
To lift spirits, the writer shares a practical approach colleagues have used for years—holding New Year’s corporate gatherings after the holidays, not before. It may feel odd at first, but in practice the idea pays off. After the holidays, the working week often resumes for others, yet the mood can carry on for this group. This year, beyond the traditional two New Years and one Christmas on January 1 and 14, the cultural calendar adds more: the Year of the Green Wood Snake with China on January 29. And if a longer festive stretch is desired, 2025 sees Russian Buddhists marking the New Year on March 1.
To counter January sadness, the writer suggests embracing small, achievable goals. The optimists head to the gym on January 2, while others take to skating, walks, or simple outings. If cheer feels out of reach, that is fine—experts don’t insist on constant enthusiasm. Slowing down and listening to one’s own pace is healthy, and January offers a window to reflect rather than pretend.
January can be challenging, yet it also offers a chance to reset, reframe, and nurture personal warmth through simple acts and human connection.