January has a way of stripping life back to its essentials. The music fades, decorations disappear, and the group chats that buzzed relentlessly through December fall quiet. The calendar turns, work resumes, and the rhythm of ordinary life returns with little sympathy for what the previous month demanded, as schools reopen and seal the shift from pause to momentum. What remains is often uncomfortable. Bank balances that feel lighter than expected. Bodies that are slower to recover. Routines that were suspended for celebration now demanding to be rebuilt. And, for many people, a quiet reckoning with the realisation that December, for all its joy and colour, may have taken more than it gave. For a growing number of Rwandans, January has become less about dramatic resolutions and more about repair. It is a month that exposes habits quietly formed over time, habits shaped by social pressure, emotional spending, the desire to belong, and the difficulty of saying no. While the global idea of “Dry January” has gained attention, in Rwanda the January pause goes far beyond alcohol. It touches finances, mental health, productivity, relationships, and the deeper question of how people live when the noise stops. Increasingly, January is being treated not as a detox, but as a mirror. When celebration quietly erodes stability For Gentil Giraneza, a 34-year-old trader in Kigali who deals in clothing and shoes, December has long represented both opportunity and risk. The festive season brings movement in the market, but it also brings expectations that are harder to quantify and even harder to refuse. ALSO READ: Holiday spending drives January blues: Tips to avoid them “The festive season has, year after year, become one of my biggest challenges,” Giraneza says. “It is never just one event or one expense. You have weddings, end-of-year celebrations, birthdays, friends coming back from abroad, and family obligations. You want to show up. You don’t want to be the one who is always absent or seen as disconnected.” At the moment, spending rarely feels dangerous. Costs are spread across weeks, and each event seems manageable on its own. But January has a way of revealing what December disguises. “It only becomes clear in January,” he explains, “when you sit down and realise that your business capital has been slowly eaten into by your social life. I normally find myself struggling because my expenditure leaves a dent in my business operations, yet the celebrations are already over.” This year, Giraneza made a deliberate shift. He declined several invitations, turned down concerts and shows, reduced social spending, and chose quieter time with family over constant group gatherings. “I decided to cut costs and spend more time at home,” he says. “I realised that I was financing memories for others while my business was paying the price. It was not easy socially, but financially and mentally, it made a difference.” ALSO READ: How to spend this Christmas without breaking the bank His experience echoes that of many small and medium traders who say December’s informal spending culture often undermines the discipline required to sustain businesses during January and February, traditionally slower months. The pressure of January is intensified by the reopening of schools, which brings immediate and unavoidable costs for many families. School fees, uniforms, transport and learning materials fall due just as households are recovering from festive spending, turning January into a month of financial triage rather than adjustment. For parents and guardians, the strain is not only economic but emotional, as they juggle obligations to their children with depleted savings and unfinished bills from December. Mental health practitioners note that this overlap heightens stress and anxiety, particularly for caregivers who feel they have already started the year behind, reinforcing the sense that January exposes the real cost of festive excess more sharply than any resolution ever could. January as a financial reckoning Financial advisors describe January not as an unexpected crisis, but as a predictable pressure point. Emmanuel Nshimiyimana, a Kigali-based personal finance consultant, says requests for advice increase sharply at the beginning of the year. “December spending is emotional spending,” Nshimiyimana explains. “People spend to reward themselves, to signal success, to meet social expectations, and sometimes simply to avoid feeling left out. January is when emotion meets arithmetic, and the numbers don’t lie.” According to him, many people underestimate the cumulative impact of small, repeated expenses during the festive season. ALSO READ: What causes January blues and how can people cope? “People tend to remember big items like travel or major purchases,” he says. “But they forget the daily costs: contributions at events, drinks, transport, gifts, and unplanned obligations. These small amounts, repeated many times, quietly drain resources that were meant for rent, school fees, savings, or business restocking.” January, he adds, often exposes structural habits rather than isolated mistakes. “If January is painful every year, it is not because January itself is difficult,” Nshimiyimana says. “It is because December habits are unsustainable. The problem is not one bad decision, but a pattern that repeats itself.” Rather than advocating total withdrawal from social life, he encourages intentionality. “You don’t have to disappear socially,” he explains. “But celebration should be budgeted the same way food or rent is budgeted. If celebration threatens survival, then it needs to be redesigned.” The psychology behind festive excess While finances dominate January conversations, mental health professionals say the emotional costs of December are often overlooked. Annette Janviere Nshutinzima, a clinical psychologist at Kigali Psycho-Medical Centre, says festive seasons disrupt routines that normally anchor emotional stability. ALSO READ: Festive season: Spend within your means “In December, people sleep less, eat irregularly, drink more, and stretch themselves socially,” she explains. “It feels exciting and lively, but it is also destabilising. When January arrives, the body and the mind are trying to recover all at once.” She cautions against assuming visible celebration equals emotional wellbeing. “There are moments when someone is dancing a lot, laughing loudly, and appearing extremely social,” Nshutinzima says. “But when they pause even briefly, you can sense that something is not well. Not all visible happiness is genuine happiness, and not all celebration is a sign of inner peace.” According to her, festive seasons can become emotional hiding spaces, particularly for individuals dealing with unresolved trauma, loneliness, or psychological strain. “For some people, silence feels threatening,” she explains. “Being constantly surrounded by others helps them avoid sitting with their own thoughts. Celebration becomes a form of escape.” Spending as emotional compensation Nshutinzima notes that excessive spending during celebrations is often less about wealth and more about emotional compensation. “Sometimes people overspend not because they have excess money,” she says, “but because they are trying to fill an emotional gap. Spending becomes a way of belonging, of being seen, or of proving that one is okay, even when internally they are struggling.” ALSO READ: Set clear priorities to avoid January blues This behaviour, she explains, can manifest through generous contributions, constant attendance at events, or gift-giving that exceeds one’s means. “In that moment, the emotional reward feels more urgent than long-term consequences,” she says. “But the happiness created that way is usually short-lived.” When celebrations end and normal life resumes, many people experience emotional crashes. “They begin to feel anxiety, guilt, and regret,” Nshutinzima adds. “The happiness fades quickly because it was not grounded in balance or self-awareness.” The January emotional crash Mental health professionals say January often exposes what December masks. Emotional highs collapse, routines return abruptly, and unresolved issues resurface. “People start the year feeling like they are already behind,” Nshutinzima explains. “They look at their finances, their energy levels, their responsibilities, and feel overwhelmed. This can trigger anxiety or depressive symptoms.” She cautions against framing January recovery as punishment. “January should be about repair, not self-attack,” she says. “It is a time to stabilise, to rest, and to rebuild routines that protect mental wellbeing rather than punish past behaviour.” Health beyond the bottle Medical professionals warn that festive excess leaves physical traces that surface clearly in January. Dr. Patrick Ngabo Rwema, a general practitioner in Kigali, says clinics often record a rise in fatigue-related complaints early in the year. “We commonly see digestive problems, sleep disturbances, headaches, elevated blood pressure, and general exhaustion,” he explains. “Alcohol plays a role, but so do overeating, dehydration, lack of sleep, and prolonged stress.” Dr. Rwema supports temporary alcohol reduction but cautions against viewing it as a cure-all. “Health does not reset in one month,” he says. “January can be a starting point, but only if it leads to sustainable habits like proper sleep, hydration, balanced meals, and regular physical activity.” Global perspectives, local realities International health institutions echo similar caution. Harvard Health Publishing notes that while Dry January may improve sleep, energy levels, and mental clarity, its long-term benefits depend on whether individuals reflect honestly on their relationship with consumption and stress. ALSO READ: January blues: How to avoid a festive financial hangover Commentary in major global outlets has also questioned rigid abstinence models, suggesting that mindful reduction may be more sustainable than all-or-nothing challenges. These perspectives resonate in Rwanda’s urban context, where alcohol is only one part of a larger culture of social spending. “The question is not whether you drink in January,” Nshimiyimana says. “It is whether you understand why you spend and consume the way you do.” The social cost of restraint One overlooked challenge of January discipline is social interpretation. Saying no to invitations often attracts scrutiny. “People assume you are struggling, judging them, or becoming distant,” Giraneza says. “Sometimes you have to explain yourself more than you should.” Nshutinzima says this reflects how consumption has become tied to belonging. ALSO READ: Struggling to manage your finances during festive season? Here's what experts advise “In many social circles, participation is measured by spending,” she explains. “Restraint can feel like rejection, even when it is actually self-care.” Dealing with the realities Jean-Paul Habimana, a 41-year-old resident of Remera, Gasabo district, says January discipline has become non-negotiable. “I don’t call it Dry January,” he says. “I call it order. I plan December with January in mind, because peace of mind matters more than appearances.” Chantal Nyiransabimana, a 29-year-old businesswoman in Kimironko market, says that now that January silence is kicking in, so is clarity. “When the noise stops, I hear myself going back to the normal routine. The festive mood is slowly fading,” she says. “I am realising how I was spending a lot over the past week, to impress or join people who do not know my struggles,” she says, adding that she is focusing on restocking. Redefining success Experts argue that January offers an opportunity to redefine success itself. “Success is sustainability,” Nshimiyimana says. “If celebration today creates stress tomorrow, then it is not success.” ALSO READ: How to save after festive season spending spree For Giraneza, the results are already visible. “My business is stable, I am not borrowing, and I am calmer,” he says. “It is not exciting, but it is peaceful,” he says, adding that he hopes he can maintain the same discipline next year. Beyond January Ultimately, January is not a solution but a signal. “It shows us who we are when excess stops,” Nshutinzima says. “The question is whether we listen.” As Rwanda’s urban lifestyles evolve, January may increasingly serve as a cultural pause, not a month of regret, but of recalibration. Sometimes, the most radical resolution is not doing more, but doing less, deliberately and consistently.
