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If asked in a job interview, “Show me a time you’ve demonstrated resilience,” I would talk about my unwavering defence of January. I would point to every January from the last 20 years in which I’ve mounted a solo campaign to get those around me as excited for the beleaguered month as I am.

Because I’m sorry to inform you – but I’m pro-January.

And no, not because I’m a girl boss and I smash out a list of unachievable fitness resolutions and exhaustingly ambitious work goals.

I love January for a simpler reason: it's my birthday month. I love birthdays in general and making a fuss of other people’s – why wouldn’t you want to celebrate the mind-boggling miracle of your existence in this universe? But I really love my own birthday. And that celebration of life has grown into a fondness for the very essence of January, the otherwise underdog month of the calendar.

Saying you like January is a bit like saying you like Nickelback, a difficult position to defend. But as a January evangelist, I feel it is my duty to at least try to convert you over to my side.

Now, I do get the resistance. January arrives like a pale and lanky spectre, draping its grey scarf over the festive period and whispering sweet nothings of unattainable resolutions, booze breaks, and gym memberships.

And yes, the weather sucks. So let’s deal with the meteorological objections first. It’s cold. I don’t see the problem with that. First of all, sorry to be that person, but there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes. Secondly, January weather is rarely as bad as everyone thinks it is – the sky is often blue! That’s your winter sun right there! And even if it’s rainy and grey (like it is as I’m writing this), I find a cosiness in it. Personally, I find February to be much worse weather-wise, and let’s not even get into the misery of March’s false spring. It’s always chillier than you think!

I know what you’re thinking. The problem with January is more than just the weather. While the joy of December dissipates in a flash, January lingers like a bad smell.

My theory as to why many succumb to January's bad mood is simple: we've been duped by our old friend – Capital Ism.

This is how the January consumerism trap works: It squeezes us with post-holiday spending fatigue, then dangles the carrot of "renewal" just out of reach. Gym memberships become penance for over-indulging over Christmas, while mindfulness apps and discounted bedding promise to silence the existential alarm clock screaming in our brains.

It's all a grand conspiracy to turn our seasonal slump into a shopping spree for self-improvement. And I ain’t having it!

To combat the anti-January sentiment, embrace a pro-January state of mind. But don’t get this twisted, I’m not saying to go overdo it on the resolutions. Quite the opposite. Think of January as a palate cleanser. A warm-up month. If you must set goals at this time of year, underpromise and overdeliver to yourself.

At the heart of being pro-January is accepting the month for what is – a cold, existential wasteland – and still managing to find beauty within that. Counterintuitive as it may sound, there's a curious freedom in embracing the bleak.

January is a blank canvas, not for your resolutions, but for your apathy. It's a time to wallow in the glorious imperfection of being human, to celebrate the fact that sometimes, the best thing you can do is absolutely nothing.

In Tuck Everlasting, the author Natalie Babbitt wrote:

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”

If the first week of August is the highest seat of the Ferris wheel, then the third week of January is the queue for the ticket stall to get into the fairground. The dizzying thrills of the rides are within reach, but it’s still a bit of a wait to get there. And yet, without first passing through the barriers, you can never reach the top.

Happy Birthday!