How stealing a couple of spare days from December has helped me clear January brain fog
On Christmas Eve Eve – Monday 23 December – I observed on Facebook that:
We’ve now entered that period where every day feels like Sunday, except that John Craven isn’t flogging us the Countryfile calendar.
Now that fortnight is far behind and we’ve returned to the normal naming of days of the week. So I’m not opening the wrong page of the Radio Times and finding out my chosen programme was broadcast yesterday.
Apparently, we are in the period of January Brain.
About Words, the blog of the Cambridge Dictionary, cites an article by Katie Rosseinsky last year:
When we get back to work after that strange, glorious post-Christmas hinterland period, many of us struggle to adjust. Our brains might feel foggy, our motivation lacking and we’re likely to seriously struggle to match our usual productivity. Let’s call that befuddled sensation ‘January brain’: a general sense of mental sluggishness, as if we’re operating on a slight time delay or in slow motion.
[independent.co.uk, 13 January 20]
Let’s not! I’m going to be contrary as usual, because as many of you will know (Don’t fence me in, April 2021) there is no pigeonhole with my name on it. As for ‘operating on a slight time delay or in slow motion’ – I do that all the time. If I went any slower, I would grind to a halt.
As we’ve eased into 2025, I realise something important has happened at Casa Parkytracks:
My brain fog has lifted
Without the phone ringing or the e-mail pinging, I had time to sort, file and organise my digital life. I deduplicated the back-ups of back-ups (I don’t just believe in belt and braces – there has to be a piece of string involved as well). I’ve organised many of the 3,000+ images on my iPhone into select albums or chucked them altogether. I know how much money is coming in, going out, and most importantly, staying where it is. And I’ve still managed to get outside and exercise, even if only dashing through the downpour to the rowing machine in the garage.
It’s so cathartic.
How did this happen? A major factor was that we didn’t have to spend a day each end travelling 270 miles in uncertain weather to see my daughter and her family. Then staying long enough to make the trip worthwhile while not outstaying our welcome. They are just 12 minutes away now.
Seven steps to fogbusting
I Googled ‘Parkinson’s brain fog’ and reached a helpful page from Parkinsons UK in which occupational therapist Emma Bracher tackles the question:
What can you do at home to help manage brain fog and confusion?
- Stick to a routine.
- Make a memory basket.
- Set reminders for yourself.
- Use visual prompts.
- Use a medication dispenser.
- Keep distractions to a minimum.
- Talk to others.
Some of them are statements of the painfully obvious. Many of them are useful even if you don’t have Parkinson’s – just as ‘blonde’ and ‘senior’ moments aren’t the exclusive preserve of the fair-haired or the elderly. I realise that – quite by chance – I have built some of them into my daily life.
Number 2 is by far the most useful for me.
A ‘memory’ basket will help you to keep your important items, such as your keys, wallet and glasses, in the same place every time.
Memories in one place
I’ve asked this question before – why can I remember the words to the entire back catalogue of Dusty Springfield hits, but not recall where I left my glasses five minutes ago? In our old house, on three levels, I would randomly scatter keys, watch, glasses, earphones, money, tickets, phone… When it was time to go out, there would be an almighty dash up and down the two flights of stairs, often more than once. It kept me fit, for sure, but the stone floor at the bottom would probably have finished me off by now. Now most things are on a big plate at the same height above sea level, my falls risk is substantially lower. It is also kinder to my husband Robin and all the other lovely folk who turn up to drive me anywhere – I hate to keep them waiting.
Some folk might call this handy receptacle a handbag. Not me. I can never find anything quickly in a dark Gollum’s cave of leather. I will find it, usually in the first place I looked, but not hard enough. I need everything out and visible, like the objects in Kim’s Game, which I used to play in the Girl Guides.
So let’s be kinder to January. Next time, steal a couple of spare days from December to help you ease in gently, with a little light stocktaking.
February? Well, that’s a different matter entirely. But at least it’s shorter. And the minute it finishes, I’ll have a birthday.
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