The Gift of the Quiet Days
How to Spend the Week Between Holidays and New Year
There’s something strange about this week, isn’t there?
The rush is over. The gatherings have happened. The expectations have been met or released. But the new year hasn’t quite begun. You’re in this odd in-between space where nobody really knows what day it is.
If you’re feeling a bit untethered right now, that’s completely normal. These quiet days between the holiday season and a new year can feel disorienting. Like you’re supposed to be doing something, but you’re not sure what.
Let me offer you a different way to think about this week.
The Gift of the In-Between
Most of the year, we live in a relentless forward motion. There’s always something next. The next appointment. The next task. The next obligation.
But this week? This week exists outside normal time. It’s neither the holiday season nor the regular routine of January. It’s a pause. A breath. A rare moment when society collectively agrees that not much is happening.
That’s not a void to fill. It’s a gift to receive.
You don’t have to be productive. You don’t have to prepare for anything. You don’t have to make plans or set goals or figure anything out.
You can just be.
The Art of Doing Nothing
We’re not very good at doing nothing in our culture. We feel like we should always be accomplishing something, improving something, moving toward something.
But rest isn’t the absence of productivity. It’s its own valuable state.
Doing nothing might look like:
Sitting with your morning coffee and watching the light change
Staring out the window without any particular thoughts
Taking a nap in the middle of the day just because
Letting entire hours pass without checking the time
Eating meals when you’re hungry, not when the clock says you should
Your body and mind need this. After the intensity of the holiday season—whether that was social overwhelm or quiet loneliness—you need time to simply exist without agenda.
Simple Pleasures for These Days
If doing absolutely nothing feels too uncomfortable, here are some gentle ways to spend these quiet days. Not as obligations. Just as options if you want them.
Read Without Purpose
Not self-improvement books. Not because you should. Just something you enjoy. Fiction that takes you somewhere else. Poetry that makes you pause. That magazine you’ve been meaning to flip through.
Read until you’re ready to stop. Then stop. No pressure to finish.
Walk with No Destination
If the weather allows and you’re able, take a short walk. Not for exercise. Not to get anywhere. Just to move your body and see what you see.
Notice things you usually pass by. The way the winter light hits that tree. The house with the blue door you’ve never really looked at before. The sound of your own footsteps.
Cook Something Simple and Comforting
Not a production. Just something warm and nourishing that makes you feel cared for. Soup. Toast with butter and jam. A perfectly cooked egg. Whatever sounds good.
Eat it slowly. Taste it. No screens. No distractions. Just you and your food.
Organize One Small Thing (If You Want)
If you’re someone who finds peace in gentle organizing, pick one drawer. One shelf. One small corner. Not because you have to. Because it feels satisfying.
But if you don’t want to? Don’t. The clutter will still be there in January.
Connect with One Person
Not out of obligation. But if there’s someone you genuinely want to talk to, call them. Not to catch up on everything. Just to hear their voice. To share this quiet moment together.
Or don’t. Solitude is just as valuable.
Revisit Something You Love
That movie you’ve seen a dozen times. That album you used to play on repeat. That hobby you haven’t touched in months. Not to get good at it. Just because it brings you pleasure.
If You’re Feeling Low
These quiet days can also bring unexpected emotions to the surface. Post-holiday blues are real. The letdown after weeks of anticipation. The exhaustion catching up. The loneliness that feels louder in the silence.
If you’re feeling low right now, that doesn’t mean you did the holidays wrong. It doesn’t mean something is broken. It’s a natural response to the intensity and then sudden stillness.
Some things that might help:
Get outside for even 10 minutes. Natural light matters, especially in winter.
Move your body gently. A short walk. Some stretches. Nothing intense.
Reach out to someone. Even a text. Connection helps.
Stick to your routines. Medication. Meals. Sleep. The basics anchor you.
Remember this is temporary. January will bring structure back.
And if the low feeling persists beyond this week, talk to someone. Your doctor. A friend. Anyone who can help.
The Space Between
There’s wisdom in this in-between time that we often miss in our rush to get to the next thing.
The space between the holiday season and a new year is where integration happens. Where your body processes what just occurred. Where your mind quietly sorts through what mattered and what didn’t. Where you unconsciously prepare for what’s coming without forcing it.
You don’t have to do this actively. It happens in the quiet. In the stillness. In the moments when you’re “doing nothing.”
This is why the pressure to be productive right now misses the point entirely. Your system is already working. Processing. Restoring. Preparing. It just doesn’t look like work from the outside.
A Different Kind of Week
What if you approached this week not as time to fill, but as time to inhabit?
What if you let go of any expectations—yours or anyone else’s—about what these days should look like?
What if you gave yourself permission to be exactly where you are, feeling exactly what you’re feeling, doing exactly what you’re drawn to do (or not do)?
The new year will arrive whether you prepare for it or not. January will bring its own rhythm and demands soon enough.
But right now? Right now you’re in the pause. The breath between exhale and inhale. The quiet moment before the music starts again.
You don’t need to do anything with it.
You just need to be in it.
What These Days Are For
If you take nothing else from this article, take this:
These quiet days between the holiday season and a new year are not wasted time. They’re not a gap to fill or a problem to solve. They’re not days you need to earn or justify.
They’re a gift.
A rare moment when the world slows down enough that you can too. When rest isn’t selfish—it’s seasonal. When doing nothing is actually doing something profound.
So rest. Read. Wander. Stare. Sleep. Eat. Connect. Or don’t.
Whatever you do, do it without guilt. Without productivity metrics. Without comparison to how anyone else is spending this time.
This week belongs to you. And the only thing it requires is your presence.
Everything else is optional.
Wishing you peace in the pause. ❤️
I love this beause it names something we seldom give language to—the necessary slack in the system.
The in-between isn’t empty time; it’s a time for integration. Nothing new should be demanded of us here because something quieter is already happening underneath: digestion of experience, emotional bookkeeping, the body catching up to the calendar.
I especially appreciate the permission not to optimize the pause. Letting hours pass unaccounted for feels almost transgressive now, which probably tells us how badly we need it.
Peace in the pause indeed. This week doesn’t ask us to become anything—only to arrive where we already are.
Love this, and it is so true, thank you.
My beloved daughter visited for three days and we were joined by my equally beloved son and DIL for Christmas Day. Now on the 26th, they’ve all headed back to their homes. The house is silent, and still in some disarray with things out of place, dirty breakfast dishes in the sink, laundry waiting. I’ve spent the last hour sitting with my tea, listening to the house resettle around me. The cat has given in to overstimulation and is sleeping in my lap. A nap is coming for me too. All is well.