I’m Not One for “New Year, New Me”

It’s the first weekend of 2026. I’m up and at ‘em at 4:30am. On New Year’s Day I woke at 1:30am and made t-shirts for an upcoming curling bonspiel. (Disbelievers out there, don’t get too excited about “how is she planning to do physical activity if she’s in pain?”. I still need to live… it’s unknown how doing physical activity on those given days will play out. My unexplained abdominal pain can mean that I could perhaps run miles to start the day and then by mid-day be debilitated.)

I’m not one for this whole “New Year, new me” stuff. My take on this is “New Year, more of the same me, but keep growing.” To each their own.

I’m moving into the New Year with a stack of appointments in the first full week of “normalcy”. Healthcare support sort of stops during holiday seasons in rural communities; the pain doesn’t stop though. When the rest of the world is enjoying holiday rest, suggesting to someone experiencing chronic pain to take the time to rest can magnify pain. Intentions are good. Though, many of us spoonies don’t seem to rest without movement within the system. I’ve slept mostly well during this holiday season, but deep therapeutic rest? Not a chance.

This coming week is already feeling overwhelming…

January 5: visit to dentist to obtain new splint to help with easing temporomandibular joint (TMJ) pain all over again

January 6: phone follow-up with gynaecologist I haven’t met yet (I saw an interim gynaecologist on December 2, 2025)

January 8: visit with general physician to inquire about adding biopsy to colonoscopy requisition (apparently pathology isn’t just included)

These appointments interfere with my work schedule. This is one hidden cost of navigating unexplained (and diagnosed) pain. People will forget what days I wasn’t at work, but it’s the disappointment I’ll never get back for myself. It’s the learning in a still fairly new job that I’m missing out on. It’s the moral responsibility of my workplace running on empty —this is ultimately an employer’s issue but that doesn’t change the regret I feel for missing more days of work than I would’ve ever thought at 32 years young.

It’s the emotional torture that I force myself to put aside to let some grace and self-love in. Self-care is probably the most important piece of all of this, but it’s the toughest challenge to overcome. Missed days of work come and go but how I treat myself will stay with me forever.

Not to mention on January 7 we’ll find out next steps to determine whether a close family member’s cancer has spread (mucinous adenocarcinoma); January 6, 2025 is when we got word of the initial diagnosis. New years don’t seem to be anything to look forward to as I age. Shit happens no matter the time of year. But hey, if you believe in the magic of a New Year, I’m happy for you. I’m sure there are millions of people out there who have the capacity for their version of New Year magic. If I lose focus for even a day or two of what I need to do to find answers for my pain, it could take a month to make up for distractions. That’s the reality of chronic pain, specifically in women’s health. We don’t get breaks.

Fuck. Something has to give, hey?

No, nothing has to give. This is what people navigating hard things may lose sight of… the good. It may be hidden, but it’s always there. If good isn’t within reach right now, create a space for yourself to bring good within reach. It’s there, I promise you.

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Finding ways to fall back in love with myself repeatedly is vital to coping with my pain. Learning something new about myself (and my pain) almost every day is deeply exhausting, especially when the lessons involve new symptoms, or symptoms that haven’t shown up in a while. It’s like, “oh hey, how do I manage you again?”

I spend ample time reorganizing my creative corner at home to keep life interesting. I tend to look for new ways to be creative so that I keep that sparkle in my routine. Another flare up? Maybe I’ll need to stop and hunch over for a few minutes, but I refuse to let my pain decide how my more painful days will go. I mean, as far as I know I’m not dying.

Finding it next to impossible to find the good through your chronic pain journey? It’s ok, love yourself anyway. A simple smile because your breathing is worth it. If that’s all you have to give on any given day, that’s great. It’s something positive to carry. We don’t need to work miracles; we need to give our bodies tools to survive, even if survival is minute by minute. One step at a time until that next appointment.

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This holiday season was a lot of laying low and recuperating from a simple dinner outing, or a brief stroll to our backyard chicken coop. I did my best to not worry about January 5th on December 31st. My best might look beyond imperfect right now to others, but it’s perfect to me. An intense flare up off any pain scale? “Oh nice. Let me just cry it out for a few minutes while I’m baking muffins, which was supposed to keep my mind off my pain in the first place.”

There are going to be days where nothing about your pain makes sense. I’ll have spent a week sticking to a certain type of meals but there will be one day in between that seems like you may as well have just eaten junk food. My body doesn’t always reciprocate the effort I put in to keep it happy. Frustrating isn’t the right word for how it feels to feel alone in my own body. One day I can feel like my body is thanking me, and there will be days where no matter how much compassion you give yourself, nothing gives.

Carry that weight, girl. No one else will carry it for you.

It’s not normalizing our pain; it’s evolving with it.

The more you fight pain the more it’ll fight you. Work with your pain.

Take breaks for as long as you need but don’t get too comfortable. The system doesn’t wait for you.

Don’t let distractions take away your focus. Book those appointments but don’t forget to channel whatever energy it is your feeling into somethingness in the meantime. Do something. That something shouldn’t be used as a distraction from your pain; that something should help keep you not just afloat, but in control of your pain.

This is a look into what this holiday season means to me. Next year this time of year may mean something entirely different. It’ll be interesting to look back on this and see how I’ve evolved with my pain in a year’s time.