A Christmas list that isn’t about doing more – permissions for the holiday season

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for the past few years, as Christmas approaches, that I’d like to share.

There is such a strong expectation to be merry and bright. To fully embrace the festive spirit. To sprinkle fairy lights and gingerbread spice over everything we touch. And while that can be lovely (and I do love Christmas), the reality for many people is much more complex.

For some, the festive season brings loneliness. For others, it highlights loss or difficult family dynamics. It can amplify the sense that “all is not okay”, or simply leave us feeling completely exhausted.

In nature, we observe the process of wintering: a time to slow down, retreat, and restore energy. A season of rest rather than productivity. Yet, instead of wintering, the weeks leading up to Christmas often feel like running against time: juggling 345 things with a broken umbrella and wet shoes. Things to do, people to see, events to attend, presents to buy, meals to plan, shops to visit, only to forget the same items again and again.

A few years ago, I was talking to my therapist about how challenging Christmas gatherings can be, especially family ones. How we are so easily pulled back into old roles: daughters, sons, grandchildren, moody teenagers, children. Some of this can be tender and endearing -like your mum reminding you to wear a scarf or go to bed early, as if you haven’t successfully lived away for over 20 years and become a fully functioning adult with a life and family of your own… mum!

Other parts, however, can feel frustrating or painful. No matter how much you’ve grown or achieved, you may still be spoken to, dismissed, or misunderstood as you were at nine, thirteen, or eighteen. You might find yourself pulled into that conversation, the one where a relative explains, for the 35th time, how “young people” (you’re in your forties) are spoilt for wanting to afford a home, especially when they bought their six-bedroom flat with three balconies for the price of an apple and a five-year mortgage, at twenty-three.

So the question I keep coming back to is this: do we have to go through all of this in such a hard way? Can we move through the festive season a little more gently, a little more comfortably?

This year, I’ve been thinking about creating a library of permissions. A small booklet of coupons we can use when we need them. Permissions that give us the gift of rest, presence, pleasure, and joy - the fuzzies!

I’ll start:

• Permission to say “no thank you” and let that be a complete answer.

• Permission to step into another room for ten minutes when things feel a bit much.

• Permission to opt out of conversations that leave me drained or upset.

• Permission to rest, even when everyone else seems busy.

  
  

What are your permissions for this holiday season?

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and wishing everyone a gentle, restful, and fun festive break.