There is something deeply humbling about being taken out by a random March illness. Not a dramatic, movie-worthy flu. No, no. I’m talking about the kind where you’re wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by crumpled tissues, surviving exclusively on toast, and genuinely wondering if you’ve developed scurvy despite eating at least one orange this week.

March, respectfully… what was that?

This past month has not been my month. Between the coughing, the fatigue, and the general “is this allergies or am I dying?” energy, I’ve spent more time horizontal than I’d like to admit. And when you’re forced to slow down like that—when your only plans are “nap” followed by “slightly different nap”—your brain starts to wander.

And by wander, I mean spiral.

Because somewhere between episode five of a show I wasn’t even paying attention to and my third piece of toast, I started reevaluating everything. My life. My habits. My choices. My drawer of t-shirts that I haven’t worn since… 2017? Yet cannot part with because what if that’s the day I suddenly need that exact shirt?

Also—am I eating enough protein? Enough fibre? Why is this suddenly my entire personality? Who let the algorithm into my soul?

But here’s where it gets interesting. As I slowly re-entered the world (and by that I mean moved from the bed to the couch), I started noticing something: it’s not just me.

Everyone is sick. Everyone is tired. And everyone, it seems, is quietly panicking and purging their lives.

Closets are being cleaned. Diets are being reconsidered. Gym memberships are being dusted off. People are setting goals again—but this time, it feels… different. Less aggressive January energy, more gentle but determined “okay, let’s try this again.”

So naturally, I did what any rational, half-sick person does: I Googled it.

Turns out, there’s actually something to this. A lot of what I found suggests that March is a more natural “New Year.” Not the calendar one—the human one. Because let’s be honest, January is a scam. It’s cold, it’s dark, and your bed has never looked more appealing. Of course we’re not becoming our best selves then. We’re surviving.

But March? March brings a whisper of longer days. A hint (or sometimes a cruel joke) of spring. There’s light again. There’s movement. There’s this quiet nudge that says, “hey… maybe we try?”

And suddenly, we do.

We start opening windows. We start clearing space. We start thinking about who we are and who we maybe want to be next. Not in a “new year, new me” way—but in a softer, more forgiving, “let’s adjust a few things and see how it feels” kind of way.

So instead of fighting it, I’ve decided to lean in. If March wants to knock me out and then emotionally rebirth me on my couch, who am I to argue? Here’s what I’m carrying forward:

I want to cook more. I love cooking. It brings me joy—when I actually do it. Somewhere along the way, I let boredom or busyness take over, and suddenly it became a chore. I want to come back to it. To food that makes me feel good, that excites me… but also gives me grace. Because if dinner some nights is cheese and crackers? That’s still a win. That’s balance, baby.

I want to do more of what makes me happy. Walks. Little adventures. Gathering with people I love. The simple things that somehow become the first things we cancel when life gets busy. I don’t want to keep putting those on the “when I have time” list.

And I want to keep being bold. Or at least… trying to be. Trying things that scare me, even if they don’t go perfectly (and if you know, you know… skiing, I’m looking at you). There’s something about showing up and attempting that feels important right now.

Will these goals change? Absolutely.

Will I have days where my biggest accomplishment is reheating leftovers and answering one email? Also yes. But I think that’s the point.

We change. The seasons change us. Life changes us. And maybe March—the messy, confusing, sickly, hopeful month that it is—is just here to shake us a little and ask, “okay… what now?”

So, if you’re feeling a little off, a little reflective, or a little like you’ve been personally victimized by this month—same.

Maybe it’s not just the sickness.

Maybe it’s your quiet little reset.

So… what are you taking with you?