Ask helping professionals what the worst part of the work is, they don’t usually name client challenges, they name the system. The frustrations of funding models, relentless targets, unsupportive management. The tension between needing to conduct intensive or even intrusive assessments at the same time they are trying to engage the person into a vulnerable process. The imposition of theoretical models on the messiness of reality, and that there are never, never enough resources.

We can – and should – advocate for better systems and better processes that support real world change rather than reinforce unrealistic expectations or create unsustainable pressure.

But we can also consider our relationship with the system. And like any relationship, we have choices in our half. If we just focus on the negative, we may become passively resentful, feeling trapped and frustrated, or actively resistant, obstructing and undermining. Either way, we risk spinning our wheels burning a lot of energy that could be spent in more productive ways.

We can find room for acceptance that the system isn’t perfect, because nothing is. Everyone, including our loved ones and especially ourselves, are flawed, with strengths and weaknesses, and default reactions under duress. So do systems.

So while we work to make systems better, how can we find space for pragmatic acceptance of the system as it is right now? How can we value its strengths and work to minimise the impact of its weaknesses on clients, colleagues and ourselves?

When we turn up to support others we want to make a difference. We go to a great deal of effort to learn more, develop skills and extend our repertoire.

Even if we are clear we can only address one part of the picture – nutrition, housing, substance use, trauma, parenting skills – we ideally want to help resolve a specific problem. We may even have performance targets that explicitly require us to do exactly that.

Maybe we can meet that need. But maybe we can’t. Maybe it’s bigger than us. When we stand in the shoes of the other person, the idea that just one other human can help resolve a complex issue, let alone several, seems unlikely. Not impossible, but also far from guaranteed. And it sounds like a lot of pressure on the person who tries.

When we see our contribution as part of a bigger process, it becomes easier to find the part that you can do – the contribution that makes the best use of your strengths and skills, and offers the most useful next step for the other person.

One good solid stepping stone can make all the difference, providing a way to realistically move forward instead of staying stuck or risking leaping too far and falling.

There is real value in offering a safe place to land, take stock and consider the next move. Instead of needing to join the person for the whole journey, we can be a friendly face who is familiar with this stone, this bit of the path and where some of the next few stones might lead.

Hopefully you have a chance to slow down, rest and refresh as one year ends and the new year starts. Perhaps you have intentions for healthier habits, more fulfilment, greater self care. You may even have set a specific goal to waste less time – to cut down on mindless scrolling, apps or games.

And if you have, it’s likely in service of a deeper desire to make a contribution, make a difference, make someone else’s life that bit better. And if so, thank you.

While we focus on what we want to do more or less of, it’s also valuable to make room for not doing anything at all. A deliberate non-intention, an actively blank space in our diary.

In art, the idea of negative space – the space between objects, between notes – is an essential part of the overall composition. It adds to the rhythm, the texture, the movement of a work of art. And without negative space there would just be too much going on. It’s a place of relief and respite as well as anticipation for what comes next.

In our own pressured lives these spaces can be hard to find. There’s always something pulling at our attention, and even if we’re doing nothing, it’s often with the feeling we really ought to be doing something. And yet without these pauses it’s so hard to catch our breath, to recover from the unexpected, or to create space where we can relax, trust our deeper intuition and discover what emerges.

So as you look ahead at the coming year, seasons, weeks and daily routines, where will you find your moments of nothing? Block out more than you think you could possibly need. Then maybe block out a bit more. You can always choose to spend it however makes best sense at the time. But if it isn’t built in, it’s harder to wrestle it back from your schedule when you need it.