Faye McDonough

Walking to school pick-up one dark November evening, I spotted Running Up That Hill: 50 Visions of Kate Bush in a charity shop window and rushed in to snap it up. 

Kate and her uncompromising approach to creativity kept me company on the descent into Christmas and provided my kitchen soundtrack (much to my husband’s complaints). She famously disappeared for years between albums, creating only when she was ready rather than when the industry expected it.

Reading about someone who worked and published entirely on her own timeline got me thinking about my own. I didn’t need years off – but I did want some weeks to see what surfaced in the gap and to create space for new ideas.

So I signed off from writing here on the last Friday of November and mostly disappeared from the digital world. I’ve written weekly consistently for a long time – unbelievably only a few months shy of two years. 

What’s happened in the last six weeks has surprised me. 

When I signed off I had three weeks left at work until my Christmas break. I couldn’t have anticipated how busy those three weeks would be.

It turns out they were three of the most intense weeks of work I’ve had. There’s a bigger story about fundraising I’ll share when we’re through it, but having one less thing on my list was so welcomed! I could focus on the core deliverables without writing competing for headspace.

I didn’t plan it that way – it wasn’t some strategic move to clear my calendar before crunch time. But looking back, I think I knew intuitively that it was time to simplify and I listened to that.

Sometimes your gut knows before your brain catches up!

I closed for Christmas with just about the right amount of energy left to complete the final preparations and ready to rest.

We have two children at what I like to call ‘peak Christmas’ in terms of age. It can be a lot but over time, I’ve simplified in as many ways as I can. 

For a while, I thought I was doing Christmas wrong but I’ve realised that I’m doing it right for us. Our elf arrives on the 1st of December but only moves if he can be bothered (which isn’t very often). Christmas lists get ’emailed’ to Father Christmas rather than elaborately posted and our December is heavy on TV and pyjamas – I look for the kind of rest that actually restores rather than looking good in photos. 

Writing this now on 4th January, tucked away from the bitter cold and frost outside, I’m feeling in tune with myself and grounded as I head back to work this week. Not blissful, spa-retreat restoration – I have two young children remember! – but genuinely rested in a way that is, let’s face it, hard-won.

Looking back, what carried me through was embracing something I’ve been calling ‘perfectly imperfect.’ Not as a mantra I’d consciously adopted, but as an approach that kept surfacing – in how I planned Christmas, how I rested, how I thought about the year ahead. I suspect it’ll still be here long past January.

It’s become my quiet rebellion against all those ‘new year, new you’ messages filling our inboxes. A reminder that good enough is actually good. That you can honour the season without perfecting it. That rest doesn’t need to look like a spa retreat to count.

What follows isn’t a to-do list. Think of it more as a warm bath and a lit candle – comfort first, action only when you’re ready. 

So I’m sharing the five ways in which perfectly imperfect showed up for me during these weeks, in case it helps you too. Not as a prescription, but as permission to join me in slowing down when everyone else is speeding up.

Anchoring in the seasons

A chance stop at Castlerigg Stone Circle mid long-distance bike ride on the Summer solstice in 2022 has led to a regular honouring of the seasons. What started as simple, seasonal ‘happy solstice’ text messages to my (equally long-distance) best friend has led to us each marking seasonal occasions in our own way. 

I’ve also aligned my personal development to the seasonal cycles through the work of Lulu Minns. The idea is that you have energy to maximise opportunities in Summer and want to retreat in Winter. Think about it more broadly and it makes sense, doesn’t it? It can be a game-changer for how you plan your year. 

It’s also a theme echoed in this recent Financial Times article Why humans should be more like hedgehogs. It explores why we are so allergic to the concept of rest when recuperating from illness. Through tuning into my own seasons, I like to live like a hedgehog well or unwell! 

The Winter solstice fell the weekend after I finished work for Christmas and I chose a nourishing (i.e. lots of time lying down) yoga workshop, a walk and talk to Granchester with a good friend, an online gathering with friends and a burning ritual for handwritten old stories in the back garden. 

It was an intentional way to start this period of rest and a loud message to myself to put my feet up, get cosy, light all the candles and shut off the noise. 

Your reflection: When during the year do you feel most alive? When do you most need to retreat? What does noticing that pattern tell you about what you need right now?

Take some time to look back 

If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know I’m big on reflection. I do this a lot. All year round. But I do think that the closing of one year provides a great opportunity to review what’s gone down between the bookends of January and December. 

This year I used the Year Compass. A friend, Megan gathered a group of us online to complete the 2025 review. Once the kids were in bed, with a herbal brew ready and candle on, we logged onto Zoom to say hello before putting our heads down to work through the booklet in the company of friends. The second part – the forward-looking questions – sits incomplete. More on that later.

In previous years I’ve also used the Goodbye, Hello journal by Selina Barker which is another brilliant way to mark the changing of the seasons. 

Two unexpected revelations for me this year – I’ve had more fun than I realised and I want to explore more creativity this year. Insights I wouldn’t have reached without that 50 minutes spent.  I’m letting them sit there undeveloped for now, which feels uncomfortable but right. Sometimes I need to notice something before I’m ready to act on it.

If you haven’t taken a moment to look back yet, don’t think you’ve missed the boat. You can do it anytime. Get your calendar and brew ready and get going! 

Your reflection: What surprised you most about your year when you look back honestly? What have you noticed about yourself that you’re not quite ready to act on yet?

Find your refuge and make plenty of time for it

Listening to music is mine. More accurately, singing along and out loud is mine. It’s pure escapism either into nostalgia or into the lyrics or melody. Having somewhere to go when everything feels demanding is essential. Even if that’s just blasting out Wuthering Heights and reaching the high notes whilst emptying the dishwasher.

Your refuge doesn’t need to be a meditation practice or a long walk in nature (though it can be). It just needs to be yours and accessible whenever you need it.

Your reflection: What’s your version of Kate Bush in the kitchen – the imperfect, everyday thing that actually restores you?

When things go wrong (and they will)

Christmas Day, our oven door broke. Glass shattered across the entire kitchen floor whilst we were plating dinner up – thankfully Guess Who themed crackers kept the kids occupied whilst we swept and vacuumed hastily. Earlier that day, the wires of a prized Christmas gift had been accidentally cut through. 

This stuff happens. Every year something goes sideways despite the planning.

What’s changed for me is my response to it. Taking a breath, noticing the discomfort and moving on. I used to think being perfectly imperfect was about lowering my expectations. Turns out it helps most when chaos arrives unannounced. The slow cooker saved Boxing Day. The gift could be replaced. We ate dinner. The kids unbelievably didn’t notice. The day continued.

This mindset helps beyond Christmas disasters too. Ten minutes of yoga is better than none. One big task completed is better than zero. The draft that gets published beats the perfect one that only exists in your head.

Good enough and done beats perfect and stuck every time.

Your reflection: What would change if you met the next unexpected disaster with acceptance rather than frustration? What’s one area where “good enough and done” would serve you better than “perfect and stuck”?

Wait before making plans

Remember that Year Compass I mentioned? The second part still sits incomplete three weeks later. The forward-looking questions about goals and intentions for 2026 are still blank. I’m not rushing to fill them in. 

January just doesn’t feel like the right time to be making definite plans. It’s Winter. The days are short. My energy is still recovering. And if I’m honest, I’m still letting those insights about fun and creativity percolate before I commit them to goals.

Just like those Kate Bush albums that arrived when they were ready, my plans will come when they’re ready. That might be February. It might be March. It might be the Spring equinox when the energy shifts.

As my Yoga teacher says, you can choose ANY moment to begin again. It could be this morning, this afternoon or tomorrow evening – and it certainly doesn’t have to be January.

Some keywords are bubbling up for me about the months ahead. I’m writing them down as they surface. But I prefer to ponder and reflect, putting pen to paper properly when I’m ready rather than forcing it because the calendar changed.

I’ve unsubscribed from the “new year, new you” emails. My inbox is mostly resolution-free now, aside from our grocery delivery service which cheerfully informs us where we rank in the East of England Heinz Baked Beans buying tables. (We’re high. Suspiciously high.) That’s the only year-end roundup I actually enjoy! 

Your reflection: When will you actually be ready to make plans for the year ahead? What needs to happen first? What would it feel like to give yourself permission to wait?

So that’s how I moved through December and into January. Not perfectly, not according to any plan, but in a way that worked.

I’m sharing this not because I’ve cracked some code or discovered the secret to a peaceful winter. I’m sharing it because if you’re reading this in early January feeling behind, overwhelmed, or guilty for not having your year mapped out yet – you’re not alone. And you’re not doing it wrong.

Perfectly imperfect might become my theme for 2026. Or it might just be what carried me through these particular weeks. Either way, it’s been a helpful companion. A reminder that good enough is actually good. That rest counts even when it doesn’t look picture-perfect. That you can choose when to begin again.

Kate Bush is still on repeat in my kitchen. The Year Compass sits on my desk, patiently waiting. The keywords are still bubbling. And I’m good with all of that.

You’re good as you are too. Sink into that for a while.

Questions for Your Own Reflection:

• What’s one thing you’re ready to stop doing perfectly and start doing good enough?
• If you gave yourself full permission to work at your own pace, what would you do differently this month?
• What does “perfectly imperfect” mean for you right now – where could accepting good enough actually move you forward?
• When will you know you’re ready to plan ahead? What small signal will tell you the time is right?

Accompanying picture of Mini McDonough’s artwork. I love that all the seasons look like Winter.