“It’s that time of year when we start looking at 2022 goals. But I just can’t.”
I read this tweet one morning and nodded with recognition. The first whispers of what-will-2022-hold, and “new year, better you” have started to filter into my social media and news feeds.
It always happens at this time of year: tips from productivity gurus to map out and seize the new year, to charge ahead — as if in a battle — toward change. Then there’s the sharable wisdom from mental health professionals on ‘values-aligned goals’ and focusing on the process (i.e., eat more vegetables, exercise), versus the outcome (lose weight, gain muscle).
It always happens at this time of year: tips from productivity gurus to map out and seize the new year, to charge ahead — as if in a battle — toward change.
Both of these approaches have something in common — the thread of ‘do more, be better’.
We are probably feeling the tug of this thread acutely now, as we survey the wreckage of 2020 and 2021: the failed plans, unfinished hobbies, and diminished social circles. Perhaps we want to make up for this, to pick up from where we left off before the pandemic hit or to do even better and approach all the goals and adventures we placed to one side briefly.
Collectively, we have returned to normal on the surface. On the inside though, everyone I’ve been speaking to — whether in my role as a psychologist, or in my personal world — reports something entirely different.
Dazed. Exhausted. Can’t think past tomorrow. Burnt out. Always so tired. So anxious. Like a stunned mullet. Always sick. Somatising stress. Don’t want to see people.
These are the words my clients and loved ones have used to describe how they are feeling. Implicit in this is a sense of guilt, a worry that we must in some ways be lacking if we are not enthused by ‘the return to normality’. Perhaps we just need a juice cleanse? A goal setting diary? A new exercise routine? To toughen up?
There is a stark contrast between our internal worlds and the external push to thrive. Internally, many of us are still reeling from the great social and relational traumas of the past two years and the exhaustion, apathy and anxiety which come with such traumas.
People who have experienced significant trauma often require time to process and understand it and to make sense of how it has impacted and changed them. And this often means needing to pause or slow down daily routines and to seek support from loved ones. Right now, what most of us need is solace, encouragement, periods of decompression and reflection; and above all — continuity, safety and sameness.
People who have experienced significant trauma often require time to process and understand it and to make sense of how it has impacted and changed them.
And yet, we are expecting the opposite from ourselves as we start to prepare for the new year ahead of us.
A few weeks ago, I started to plan my evenings again. After months of doing absolutely nothing after work, I felt a sense of pressure to fill my empty diary with all the goings on in town. While options abound, I was stalled by indecision and confusion. In truth, I found it difficult to remember who I was and what I did during evenings before COVID-19.
After some reflection, I realised this was because two years is a long time, and my identity has changed fundamentally over the course of the pandemic. I am now less physically tired than I was (after two years of no commuting and work-from-home), but more emotionally exhausted. I enjoy exercise much more, cook less, have engaged in a beloved hobby — writing — again, and have made significant changes to my social circles. All these things require that I take a pause before I launch full steam into new activities. I also realised that I was still experiencing the fatigue and burnout from work during a pandemic, which has not dissipated merely because society has reopened. Recovering from this will take a while. It will also take recalibration, slowness and intentional rest.
It will hopefully be a period of trying to understand and integrate the difficulties of the past two years and of continuing the process of slowness and allowing the emotional impacts to dissipate, before I even attempt to set any new goals or make any plans.
While I usually enjoy the process of planning a new year and considering adventures, I have decided instead to see 2022 as a continuation of the pandemic-epoch, a time in my life I cannot wish away and run from simply because it was difficult. It will hopefully be a period of trying to understand and integrate the difficulties of the past two years and of continuing the process of slowness and allowing the emotional impacts to dissipate, before I even attempt to set any new goals or make any plans. I will treat myself as I do my trauma clients — with compassion. I will encourage myself to focus on the basics (sleep, rest, good food, movement), the importance of stress release, paced social connections and regular check-ins with myself to assess my energy levels before saying yes to any offer.
When we consider and plan 2022, perhaps there is a lesson for us all — not to do more, or to do better, but instead to pare back, and seek the wide-open spaces and small joys which bring us healing and quiet. What that looks like will be different for everyone. I know I will be taking plenty of leave and escaping regularly into the solace of books and the peacefulness of a yoga studio in the new year.
