HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'Why I'm having a Year of "Nup".'

Two weeks in, and 2025 is shaping up to be the year of backing the f*ck off.

The zeitgeist self-help book of January resolutions is called The Let Them Theory, a gazillion-selling Mel Robbins guide to just letting the troublesome people in your life… do what they want and stop bothering you. Oprah calls it the "best self-help book she's ever read" and it can be summarised in the words, "You do you, darl".

The most-clicked-on stories are about how much sand you're entitled to on the beach, the highest-grossing movies are cartoons, and on our phones we're still watching videos of pretty women making pretty food in their pretty kitchens. In fact, those are going big-budget, with Duchess Meghan's anticipated flower-freezing series right around the corner.

It's as if, in the face of what feels like unsolvable problems on an unfathomable scale — I started to list them, you know, war and fire and Elon Mu… and then it got too sad, and I stopped — the culture has decided to have a good lie down.

And 2024 Me must have been uncharacteristically early adopting this vibe, because, in December, when it came to choosing my Word Of The Year, a tradition at least eight years in on Mamamia Out Loud, I chose one very much in the spirit.

Listen to Mamamia Out Loud where Mia, Jessie and I share our words for 2025. Post continues after audio.

It's Nup. 2025 is going to be my year of NUP.

That sounds defeatist, I hear you say. A lot like no.

But it isn't. Because, for me, at least, I don't want my year of Nup to be a nothing year. I am MID, and every year is precious. I know how fast time is zipping past me. My children are taller than I am. My dog has stopped chewing chair-legs with puppy teeth. My face looks more like my mother's every day (alright, Mum, just an observation).

No, my year of Nup is all about putting energy into what counts, and only what counts. And with a lightness that's never been more essential.

The whole idea of Word Of The Year is to choose a north star to turn to when you have to make decisions. And this year, for me, my north star is a chippy, absolute three-letter word.

Nup is not NO. No is a closed door, a bat to deflect and defend. A barrier that new experiences and opportunities cannot cross.

I'm not interested in that. I don't want to close the door. To hole up and hide and cut myself off. I want to keep the cool air flowing and for change to keep blowing in as it inevitably does.

Watch: Mel Robbins explains 'The Let Them' theory. Post continues after video.

I have a busy year. We're taking Out Loud on tour, I have a new novel to push gingerly into the world, a trip to see my far-away family, another book to write. A baby podcast series to nuture in MID.

So no, I don't want to shut off the air. I just want to be in control of what comes in on it.

Nup is quicker, more porous, more immediate than a no. It isn't about NOT doing things you want to do. It isn't No sugar, No margaritas, No hot chips dipped in sticky-sweet scarlet sauce.

No, a Nup is just a friendly rejection of distracting nonsense.

A Nup to drama and catastrophising.

Nup to feeling bad about the lines on my face, my age, my endangered waistline.

Nup to over commitment. To productivity obsession.

Nup to pressure and expectation. To other people's markers of success.

Nup to calendar-filling, when, if I've learned one thing about myself as I'm properly grown-up, it's that a blank weekend gives me literal butterflies of excitement.

Nup to 'you're too old to wear that.' Nup to 'who do you think you are.'

Nup to falling in line with the steady, Trumpian march towards a crueller, less human world.

Nup to saying yes when I mean Nup.

Nup to 'but I've never done that before'.

Nup to doom-scrolling, to picking up my phone every time I feel a feeling.

Nup to everything that doesn't nourish me, my family, my friends, my community.

Yes, I know that last line makes you scrunch your nose. It makes my butt cheeks clench a little, too. Nourish, really?

But yes, Nourish. My work takes me away from my family — literally and figuratively — a lot, and so it has to be worth it. To provide monetarily, of course, but also in terms of what it brings to all of us and our futures. Is it interesting, is it an adventure, will it meet a need we have? Am I taking something back to the nest like a penguin with a half-digested fish?

So yes, in my year of Nup, I hope to have more space to behave like a regurgitating penguin. To do as little busywork as possible. As much meaningful work as possible. And for my Nups to shake off a lot of the heavy stuff that sticks to midlife feathers. Shame, regret, worry. That's the big hope.

Join me in my year of Nup? It's three little letters. And Oprah's in favour.

Read more from Holly Wainwright:

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: Why we all need to write a D**khead List.

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'For me, sobbing in a tent was the first sign.'

• HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'A very honest guide to working with midlife women.'

Feature image: Instagram @wainwrightholly.