Spend time doing nothing

Of course—the end of the year is when cabin fever sets in. Days blend into one another: Netflix binges, too much food, too many drinks, “nothing to do.” We tell ourselves we’re going crazy. Is that true? Is there really nothing to do? Are we really doing nothing?

We’re not. We’re encountering parts of ourselves we rarely meet. I’ll share how it was for me. Some days were genuinely empty—maybe two out of ten I spent the whole day watching Netflix in a darkened room with Christmas tree lights on, surrounded by tons of cheese, snacks, and, of course, alcohol. But soon that wasn’t enough; my body rejected it. I started to crave creativity.

I was wowed by a gorgeous kimono made of glass at the Fort Wayne Museum of Art while visiting family in Fort Wayne, Indiana. My perception of “I did nothing for the holidays” is wrong, because I also traveled to visit family.

It began with cooking: looking in the fridge, spotting ingredients, and getting sudden, exciting ideas of what to make. Then I made the dish. I made sure to enjoy the process—playing music, savouring the slow, rhythmic knife action while cutting vegetables (I especially love this when I’m cutting cabbage). I even tried some of the rice-paper recipes I’d seen on Instagram reels and wanted to try for so long. I made soups, I made Christmas dinners from American childhoods, and I experimented with really good pasta ideas, including squid-ink pasta with lemon sauce (two full lemons juiced—I absolutely loved the sourness). Cooking expanded into cleaning the house, and before I knew it half the day was spent cooking and cleaning while I truly, truly enjoyed it.

Desert from my childhood — I made crêpes from scratch, then slathered them with my adult obsession: peanut butter and honey, dusted with cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg.

The idea that there’s nothing to do is wrong. In mornings I watched TED Talks, reflected on how I felt, practiced breathing exercises, watched videos about anxiety, and even created a new AI agent to help coach me through some work struggles.

If you asked me what I did for the holidays, I wouldn’t think about mentioning those things. I wouldn’t mention that I wrote a play (yes, with the help of AI), or that I wrote my will (with help from a wizard). I wouldn’t mention that I breathed deeply and pushed my anxiety away, or that I slept really well every single night except for the two before the dreaded Monday back to work. I wouldn’t mention that I saw friends, that I reached out to many friends who then subsequently canceled because they were also in their own funk—wanting to hang out but not waiting either. I wouldn’t mention that I created a piece of art, or rather that I felt compelled to create a piece of art. I wouldn’t mention that I signed up for a class, that I wrote my resolutions and intentions for the year, or that I tried really hard to forgive myself for things in 2025. I also wouldn’t mention that I didn’t list the things I did really well and that I’m grateful to myself for in 2025; instead I only dwelled on the things I didn’t do well, another thing I feel I have to change. I wouldn’t mention that I booked our vacation and found awesome flights, that I talked to my family, that I read books, that I decluttered space, or that I avoided mindless shopping.

I loved the coziness of my home for the holidays. Here I feel so safe. I also love those nights of Netflix binges while snacking on cheese, veggies, olives, and other indulgences that aren’t on my table regularly. And yes, something French to drink—like champagne—to go with it. This is not wrong; it’s needed and necessary, and we should enjoy it without feeling guilty.

Of course I wished that I went for a walk every single day, that I maybe worked out, that I volunteered, that I built a cool project — there’s always a list of things I wish I had done. In my mind, the things I didn’t do somehow outweigh the things I actually did. With this I realize how harsh I am toward myself, how hard I judge myself, and how little gentleness I show myself.

I’m lucky to live near Lake Michigan and proud of myself for waking up in such cold weather. The reward: seeing snow, a frozen beach, and hearing the waves of Lake Michigan, which remind me that nothing is permanent in this life — only this passing moment truly matters. So yes, there were walks, just not every single day.

So, yes — I spent the holidays mostly indoors. I did many things, and I wish I had valued more the moments that came from stillness rather than from feeling like I had to do something. I want more of those days in my future. I want more acceptance. I want to love myself more in 2026 and beyond — this is my resolution.