January is the Monday of months. It has a talent for ruining momentum and arrives right after the most indulgent, slow moving stretch of the year. January immediately expects discipline, focus and emotional stability. It follows December the same way Monday follows a weekend: abruptly, unapologetically and fully expecting you to be functional. Like a Monday morning alarm, it does not care how rested you are, how warm your bed feels or how strongly you believe you deserve five more minutes of sleep.
The transition into January is abrupt. December fades out with lights, food, rest and the comforting illusion that time is optional. January barges in with resolutions, calendars, commitments and the sudden requirement to appear on a schedule.
There is no gentle warm-up period. One moment, you’re on break, living in a timeless blur where days are melting together and you are eating dessert for breakfast. Next, you’re expected to read syllabus upon syllabus, remember where your classes are and Canvas notifications multiply overnight. Professors say things like “Let’s jump right in,” and you’re still mentally buffering.
What truly sets January apart, though, is its distorted sense of time. Time moves at a glacial pace. Each week feels stretched beyond reason, as if the month personally decided to test how long humans can endure before questioning the passage of time itself. By the second week, exhaustion kicks in. By the third, confusion sets in. You start asking questions like, “How is it still January?” and “Why does it feel like a lifetime?”
January is also wildly overconfident. It positions itself as the month of transformation. Suddenly, everyone is supposed to be motivated, organized and glowing with purpose. Planners appear. Resolutions are announced. Routines are “locked in.”
Meanwhile, you’re just trying to stay awake during lectures and figure out why the sun disappears before dinner. It’s the academic equivalent of a Monday morning where you forgot your charger, your coffee tastes bad and the Wi-Fi is acting up. Expecting peak performance during the coldest, darkest stretch of the year feels like a setup.
And the worst part? January makes you think this is your fault. If you’re tired, unfocused or overwhelmed, it feels like you’re doing the new year incorrectly. But maybe the problem isn’t you. Maybe this month is just designed for low energy, emotional buffering and survival-level functioning. Not every chapter needs growth arcs and glow-ups. Some chapters are just about making it through without combusting.
Mondays don’t exist to inspire joy. They exist to mark the return to responsibility. January operates under the same philosophy. It’s not here to be loved; it’s here to be endured.
So if all you’ve managed to do this month is attend class, keep yourself fed and resist the urge to give up entirely, that counts. That’s success. That’s resilience.
And just like Monday eventually gives way to Friday, January will end.
It always does.
