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The days between Christmas and New Year are strange, aren’t they?
Time feels blurry. The fridge is full, the house is half-tidy, your inbox is half-alive. You’re not really working, but you’re not fully resting either.
On paper you may have “done nothing” - but your body tells a different story: heavy, wired, scattered. And just as you exhale from December, the world starts whispering:
“New Year, New Me.”
“Goals. Resolutions. Reset. Fix yourself. Now.”
If the thought alone makes you want to crawl back under a blanket, this guide is for you.
You don’t need a whole new self for January.
What you do deserve is a soft landing strip between the year that was and the year that’s coming. A few slow evenings. A kinder way of looking back. Tiny rituals that help your body and mind arrive before you start planning anything big.
This is a gentle guide to using the in-between days - and the first weeks of January - to start softer, not stricter.
Many people describe this week as “doing nothing” - but look closer at what your nervous system just went through.
Social plans and family dynamics to navigate
Extra mental load: gifts, outfits, meals, logistics, travel
Late nights, rich food, more sugar and alcohol than usual
Constant stimulation: lights, screens, noise, kids off rhythm
Even if you love the holidays, your body is working overtime. And when the calendar suddenly goes quiet, all that built-up tension finally has space to show itself: fatigue, brain fog, irritability, emotional swings, or that numb “I should be doing something” feeling.
None of that is a personal failure. It’s your system trying to come down from high alert.
So instead of forcing yourself into productivity mode, what if you treated the in-between days as a recovery zone? A place where:
your body gets to arrive first,
your mind catches up second,
and only then you design a January that feels kinder and more realistic.
Luvvy’s role in this? Not a makeover. Not a strict plan. Just small tools - warm drinks, body care, sleep comforts, journals - to make those moments of landing a little easier to reach.
Before you write goals, fix habits or overhaul your life, start here:
How does your body actually feel?
Take a moment - right now, if you can - and check in from head to toe:
Jaw: clenched or relaxed?
Neck and shoulders: heavy, tight, crunchy?
Chest: open, or a bit squeezed and shallow?
Stomach: knotted, bloated, hungry, numb?
Legs and feet: restless, buzzing, aching, tired?
You don’t have to “fix” anything you notice. Just seeing it clearly is the first kind act.
When your body has been carrying weeks (or months) of rushing, people-pleasing, caretaking and deadlines, it needs help to understand that the danger is over for now.
One of the gentlest ways to send that message is through a repeated evening ritual. Not a perfect, complicated routine - just a simple sequence you can lean on.
Think of this as a small ceremony you can repeat on a few nights between Christmas and New Year, and then keep as your go-to in January. It can be as short as 20–30 minutes, adjusted to your life.
You can use all the steps or just the ones that feel realistic right now.
Start by bringing warmth to your body:
a shower
a bath
or, if that’s not possible, a warm foot soak in a basin
Warm water does more than clean your skin - it signals to your nervous system that it’s allowed to switch from “doing” to “digesting and resting”.
You can keep it simple: just water and a gentle cleanser or body wash. Or you can add a bath bomb, salt, or soothing shower gel if that feels nice.
After you step out, take a moment to move more slowly than usual:
Gently pat your skin dry instead of scrubbing.
Apply a body cream, lotion or oil, not as a rushed afterthought but as a small thank-you to your body.
Pay extra attention to parts that feel forgotten: your calves, feet, hands, or shoulders.
The goal isn’t perfection - it’s to feel your own hands saying, “I see you. Thank you.”
Luvvy tip: choose one or two body products whose scent feels comforting – not “performancy”. A creamy body butter, a soft floral or warm vanilla, a relaxing essential oil blend… something that feels like coming home to you.
Next, give your body something warm from the inside:
herbal tea
chicory drink
or a small cup of hot chocolate
Sit down, even if it’s only for a few minutes. Wrap your hands around the mug, take three slow breaths while it cools, and then sip. No multitasking required.
A daily warm drink ritual is a surprisingly powerful anchor - your brain starts to associate it with “we’re safe, we’re slowing down now.”
Luvvy tip: build a tiny “Tea Ritual Bar” at home with a few favourites – a calming tea, a chicory blend, maybe a cosy hot chocolate – so it’s easy to say yes to this moment.
After warmth and touch, add one last comfort signal:
fluffy socks
a soft robe
a warming scarf around your shoulders
It’s a small, physical way of telling yourself: “I’m done being ‘on’ for today.” The outside world can wait.
Finally, protect the last bit of your evening. It doesn’t need to be an hour of yoga. Even 15 minutes makes a difference if you’re not doomscrolling or answering messages.
You might:
read a few pages of a book
stare at the fairy lights
write three lines in a journal
simply sit in silence with your drink
You can still watch a show earlier in the evening – no need to be perfect. Just let the very last part of your day be a little quieter, so your system can actually land.
Luvvy tip: keep a small tray near your bed or couch with your “landing tools” – body cream, foot cream and socks, a favourite tea, maybe a pillow spray. When everything lives together, the ritual becomes much easier to start.
In January we’re often told to “use sleep as a productivity hack”. But in this guide, sleep isn’t a tool to do more – it’s a repair shop for a tired nervous system.
For the in-between days and the early weeks of the year, consider:
Setting a wind-down alarm 30–45 minutes before you want to sleep
Swapping the last scroll of the night for your landing ritual, even if shortened
Using a small signal to tell your brain “it’s bedtime now”:
a spritz of pillow spray
rubbing a sleep balm on your wrists or temples
putting on your softest socks
You don’t have to “sleep perfectly”. Just by making the path to sleep gentler, you’re already treating your future self with more kindness than most resolutions ever will.
Once your body has had a chance to soften a bit, your mind can start to breathe too. This doesn’t mean jumping straight to bullet-point goals. It means checking in before you point yourself in any direction.
Instead of a long, demanding review, try one simple session – maybe with your evening drink.
Set aside 20–30 minutes, grab a journal or piece of paper, and divide a page into three columns:
What felt heavy
What felt good
What surprised me
Then, without overthinking, write bullet points under each. You’re not writing for an audience – just for you.
Under “heavy” might go: constant rushing, certain responsibilities, a draining commute, mental load, a loss, a conflict.
Under “good” might go: small traditions you loved, a friendship that deepened, a new hobby, cosy evenings at home.
Under “surprised me” might go: something you handled better than expected, a change you enjoyed, a risk you took, a moment of unexpected joy.
When you look at the page, you’ll often notice patterns:
Where did your energy leak away all year?
What quietly kept you going?
Where did you feel most like yourself?
You don’t need instant solutions. Just by seeing these threads, you already get a clearer sense of what you might want more of and less of next year – not in a perfectionist way, but in a caring one.
Luvvy tip: if “official journaling” feels intimidating, use a pretty notebook and pen you actually like. Keep them next to your warm drink station or on your nightstand, so this ritual doesn’t require any extra effort to begin.
Resolutions usually fail not because we’re weak, but because they’re:
too many,
too strict,
and disconnected from how tired we really are.
What if, instead of a long list, you chose one gentle focus for January? Something that speaks more to how you want to feel than what you want to achieve.
For example:
“I want to feel a bit more rested.”
“I want more small cosy moments at home.”
“I want to be kinder in how I talk to myself.”
Then ask yourself:
“If this was my focus, what is one or two small actions that would support it?”
Not ten. One or two.
More rested → keep the evening landing ritual twice a week.
More cosy moments → one movie or reading night a week with a cosy kit ready (blanket, drink, candle).
Kinder self-talk → write one kind sentence to yourself in your journal each morning or evening.
Your focus doesn’t need to impress anyone. It just needs to be something your tired brain can remember on a Wednesday when everything is loud again.
Now you have two ingredients:
a body ritual (evening landing),
one gentle focus with 1 - 2 supporting actions.
The last step is to turn them into a soft weekly rhythm - not a rigid schedule, more like a template you can come back to.
Start with this question:
“If January was a little kinder to me, what would minimum care look like in one week?”
Minimum care is not a perfect routine. It’s the smallest set of things that, if they happened, would make your week feel a bit more humane.
For example, your gentle week might look like:
Two evenings with your landing ritual (warm shower/bath, body care, warm drink, softer screen time)
One cosy home moment (a movie or reading night with socks, blanket, candle, drink)
Two short check-ins with yourself (5 minutes journaling or just answering “How am I really?”)
Written out, it could be:
Monday: Tea pause after work (even if it’s just 10 minutes)
Wednesday: Evening landing ritual before bed
Friday: Cosy movie or book night on the couch
Sunday: Short landing ritual + “How did this week feel?” reflection
It doesn’t look like much on paper. But compared to weeks where you only spin, react, and collapse into bed with your phone, this is already a different life.
And if a week explodes and you only manage one of these things? It still counts. You still showed up for yourself.
Of course, your life has moving parts: kids, partners, pets, colleagues, obligations. Tiny rituals survive better when the people around you know what they mean.
You can gently protect your me-time by:
Telling your household what’s happening
“When I light that candle, I’m taking ten minutes for myself. After that I’ll be back.”
“I’m going to take a shower now to clear my head, and after that I’ll help you with your homework.”
Using a visible signal
a specific mug for your evening drink
a robe or scarf you always wear in your quiet time
a candle or lamp that only goes on for your landing ritual
Over time, these small signals teach others - and you - that these minutes matter.
This isn’t about demanding hours behind a locked door. It’s about making it normal that you, too, have 10 - 30 minutes where you’re not available to the world.
Luvvy tip: some people like to gather their favourites - bath product, body cream, tea, journal, socks – into one basket or tray. Call it your Soft Start Kit. When you physically pick it up and move it to the bathroom or couch, everyone sees that your small ritual has begun.
The world will keep telling you that January is for fixing yourself. For being stricter, smaller, more efficient, less… you.
This guide offers a different story:
Let your body arrive first - with warmth, touch, and a repeated landing ritual.
Let your mind catch up - with a soft reflection on what was heavy, what was good, and one gentle focus for the month ahead.
Turn that into a kind weekly rhythm - a few anchored moments that help you feel human, even when life is loud again.
You will not do this perfectly.
Some nights you’ll fall asleep with your phone in your hand. Some weeks you’ll forget the journal or drink lukewarm tea between interruptions.
That doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’re a person, not a programme. You can always start again tomorrow, or even in the middle of today, with the next shower or warm mug.
You don’t have to arrive in the new year polished and perfect.
You’re allowed to arrive slowly - warm, tired, and still worthy of every quiet minute you can claim.