January always tries to sell me a dramatic storyline. Not this year.
New year, new me. Fresh start. Total reset. A version of myself who wakes up at 5am, drinks green juice, joins a gym, meal preps for seven days, journals for an hour, and somehow never gets tired or overwhelmed.
And every year, I feel that pull. If I don’t make a huge change immediately, I’m wasting the “new year energy.”
But this January, I’m doing something different.
I’m not trying to become a brand-new person. I’m just trying to become a slightly more supported version of myself. And instead of big leaps, I’ve been choosing small, quiet changes that fit into my real life.
Choosing Small Over Loud
The “new year” mindset makes everything feel urgent. It tells you that if you don’t overhaul your entire life in January, you’ve already failed. But I know myself well enough now to know that changing everything at once never lasts.
So instead, I’ve been asking one simple question:
"What’s one small thing I can do that makes my day feel better?"
Not impressive. Not dramatic. Just doable.
A Slower, Kinder Morning
One of the first changes I made was in my mornings.
I’ve started getting up and setting aside time to read another chapter of my book. Just one chapter. Nothing more. That small moment of quiet before the day really begins has made my mornings feel less rushed and more intentional.
I’ve also been making a point of having a cup of tea at home. Sitting with it. Drinking it slowly. Letting myself wake up properly instead of immediately rushing into the day. It sounds so simple, but it’s become a small anchor, something steady I can rely on each morning.
Reading Before Bed
I’ve also started reading before bed.
Not perfectly, not every single night, and not as part of some rigid night time routine. Just choosing to end my day with something slower, something that helps my mind wind down.
If I read a few pages, great. If I don’t, that’s fine too. There’s no pressure to “start again” the next day. I just continue when I can.
And that’s been a big shift for me, letting routines be flexible instead of fragile.
A Simple Walk That Meant More Than I Expected
One of the most meaningful small steps I took didn’t look like a “habit” at all.
I went for a simple walk with friends.
No fitness goal. No step count. No intention beyond going outside and spending time together. We walked, talked, and eventually reached the top, where we stopped and took in the view.
Standing there, I realised how rarely I give myself time to actually absorb what’s around me. I wasn’t thinking about the next thing on my list or what I should be doing later. I was just there, looking, listening, breathing, enjoying the moment.
It was such a small thing, but it stayed with me. Not because it was productive or impressive, but because it reminded me how much I need moments like that. Simple steps like that walk are things I don’t do often enough, even though they give me so much back.
Making a Small Change at Work (That’s Already Helping)
I’ve also made a slight change in the way I work—and it’s probably one of the most practical small steps I’ve taken.
Instead of battling through a long to-do list and constantly jumping in and out of tasks, I’ve started blocking out my diary to work on specific projects. Giving myself protected time to focus on one thing, rather than trying to do everything at once.
This isn’t a revolutionary system. It’s something a lot of people already do. But for me, it was a simple shift that I’d been putting off—and it’s made a bigger difference than I expected.
I’m already getting more done. Things feel clearer. Less frantic. And surprisingly, it’s been much easier to stick to than I imagined. It’s not about working harder; it’s about working with a bit more intention.
Again, not a huge step. Just a small change that’s making my days feel more manageable.
Gutting My Space, One Small Area at a Time
I’ve also been making changes in my space but again, not in an all-or-nothing way.
Instead of trying to declutter everything in one overwhelming day, I’ve been gutting things slowly:
my office drawers
my wardrobes at home
One drawer at a time. One section at a time. No chaos, no pressure to finish everything at once.
It’s been surprisingly satisfying to finish something small and actually feel the difference immediately. A lighter drawer. A clearer space. A sense of progress without exhaustion.
This Is What New Routines Look Like for Me
When people talk about routines, they often mean strict schedules and big lifestyle shifts. But the routines I’m building are much simpler than that.
They’re just small moments that make my days feel calmer and more intentional:
reading a chapter in the morning
having tea at home
reading before bed
blocking out time at work for focused projects
clearing one drawer instead of the whole room
saying yes to a walk with friends
None of this is flashy. None of it would look impressive written on a goals list. But it’s all stuff I can actually keep doing and that matters more than how it looks.
And No, I’m Not Starting a Gym Membership
This year, I’ve decided not to fall into the trap of thinking I need a big, symbolic gesture to prove I’m serious about change.
I’m not starting a gym membership just because it’s January. Not because movement isn’t important but because I know forcing myself into something I don’t truly want will only lead to burnout.
I’d rather choose small, repeatable actions that fit into my life than big commitments that collapse the moment things get busy.
Small Steps Build Trust
The biggest difference I’ve noticed between big leaps and small steps is what they build over time.
Big leaps create pressure.
Small steps create trust.
Every small change I’ve made is a quiet promise kept to myself. And those promises add up—not into a brand-new version of me, but into a version that feels calmer, more grounded, and more present.
This Is My January
My goal this January isn’t transformation. It’s consistency without punishment.
It’s letting progress be quiet. Letting routines be simple. Letting change happen slowly instead of forcing it all at once.
No big leap.
No “new year, new me.”
Just small steps, taken gently—and repeated.






