December is a Winter Whiplash

December looks gentle on the calendar:

- an explosion of festive icons,

- a neat block labelled “break,” 

- a visual promise of finally being able to rest.

But anyone who’s actually living it knows better. This final block is the most disjointed month in the entire academic year, where no two weeks feel like they belong to the same timeline.

The End-of-Term Whiplash

It starts with exhaustion. An end-of-term tired, when you’re finishing essays, wrapping up seminars, and telling yourself just get through this last thing.

You blink, and suddenly you’re packing half your life into a suitcase. Library books sit next to scarves. Lecture notes get folded into pockets “just in case,” perhaps functioning as wrapping paper for holiday presents.

The Lie Itself

This is the calendar lie:

- You’re finishing essays while mentally packing a suitcase.

- You’re sitting at the table with family while half your brain is running through exam topics you swear you’ll revise later.

- You’re technically “off,” but academically still very much on-call.

Home, But Not Offline

At home, the switch is immediate. You’re expected to be present, festive, available. There are meals that never seem to end, questions that loop endlessly and you'll answer politely, even as part of your brain is still rewriting an argument or mentally panicking about January.

Because you’re not really “off.” You’re just… relocated.

Living in the In-Between

You want to rest, but your mind keeps drifting forward. You want to enjoy the quiet, but you’re tethered to what’s coming next.

Exams sit in the background, not loud enough to confront, not quiet enough to ignore. 

Travel doesn’t help. It disrupts everything from sleep cycles, routines, and attention spans.

By the time you return, jetlagged and overfed, you’ve forgotten half your readings and half your momentum. January arrives like a cold reboot you didn’t ask for.

- Moodle notifications reappear.

- Libraries refill.

- Everyone pretends not to panic.

And yet, December forces you to live inside contradictions: rest and responsibility. nostalgia and deadlines. belonging and dislocation. home and away. ending and beginning.

There is no clean separation. No perfect handoff from one version of yourself to the next. And learning to tolerate that, achieve the infamous "work-life balance," is a skill in itself.

Returning

Coming back to London in January feels abrupt because it is. But it’s also clarifying. You arrive a little disoriented, a little behind, carrying jet lag and half-finished thoughts... but also a renewed sense of why you’re here. The work doesn’t pause just because the calendar says “holiday,” in the same way your curiosity or ambition doesn’t switch off when you leave campus.