Maybe this Holiday Doesn't Have to be Magical
All too often, we worry about producing The Best Holiday Ever, and while those online ideas for intricate themed décor, awe-inspiring parties, picture-perfect outfits, chef-inspired feasts, postcard-worthy travel, and starry-eyed children look gorgeous, the effect can be overwhelming.
Social media has a way of amplifying everything, and even the most well-meant content can start feeling like a huge checklist that we're failing to complete. Our modern Christmas isn't the remembrance of a humble birth or a relaxed day with those you love. It's a huge performance that requires all of your energy (and money) for a month or more.
And if you have kids or grandkids, the pressure to not only fulfill all of their (inflated) dreams, but to document every moment, is huge. We've all heard this – the holidays are supposed to be magical.
Now, I love a bit of Christmas sparkle and anticipation, and for many years I enjoyed the practice and preparations for holiday musical performances. But all too often, those things have added a lot of busyness and anxiety, when what I was really craving was coziness and a feeling of belonging. To me, the holiday should be an opportunity for reflection, connection, and rest.
So what if your holiday doesn't look like a magazine spread? What if it's not a whirlwind of experiences or a scrapbook of exquisite memories?
The pressure for perfection
There's a cultural obsession with creating the perfect holiday. There are downloadable checklists for holiday chores and plans (most beginning two months out). Advent calendars, readings, and activities. The Elf on the Shelf. Not to mention shopping, wrapping, baking, decorating, and the angst of choosing the just-right holiday card, composing the holiday letter, and getting everything addressed, stamped, and mailed in time.
You know I could go on.
To be fair, many of these activities are lovely. Over the years, I made plenty of ornaments with my kids. We decorated cookies. We went to a tree farm in the Sierra foothills and spent the day choosing the perfect Douglas fir. We chose gifts for their cousins, wrapped, and mailed them. We walked through the Fabulous 40's in Sacramento to see the Christmas light displays. We went caroling. I was usually directing the children's Christmas program at church, and they were in it. We came up with costumes, practiced lines, and invited aunts and uncles and grandparents.
But you know it wasn't all bliss. Sometimes we were tired, impatient, or things didn't go quite to plan. Sometimes we were sick, and had to set plans aside. We didn't always have a lot of money.
What's happening today is that we're idealizing something that for most people has never really existed. It's like those people who idealize the 1950s and think that all our problems would be solved if we just returned to that era – conveniently forgetting fear of The Bomb, Jim Crow laws, the HUAC blacklist, polio, depressed housewives, and the casual acceptance of sexual harassment in the workplace. No. Not an ideal situation after all.
With our frantic efforts to create Christmas magic, we're measuring ourselves against an impossible standard. And for parents – especially mothers – the pressure is even greater. It can start to feel like you're blowing it unless every day includes a surprise, an adventure, a photo, and a perfect memory.
No wonder some of us start to feel like we just want to survive this season.
Not all seasons are for blooming.
The truth is, not every season is meant for audacious goal-setting, growth, and achievement. Some seasons are quieter, simpler, and less energy-intensive.
Maybe for you, this is one of those seasons. Maybe you've come through something hard – an illness, a loss, financial hardship, or a period of mental or emotional fatigue. Maybe your life is already brimming with decisions and responsibility, and creating a magical holiday feels completely out of reach.
You don't have to sparkle. You can set boundaries. You can do what's right for you.
Maybe this Christmas is not about going bigger, but about going deeper. Maybe it's not about doing more, but about doing less with more care and attention. Maybe it's not about proving anything, but about figuring out what matters.
If you need to heal, or rest, or take more care of yourself and your family, please don't feel that you need anyone's permission to do that. If you just need to spend some quiet time, move your body, get into nature, eat and drink healthfully, and maybe pick up a book or your drawing pencil or your violin again, feel free to do that.
Those beautiful pictures and videos and blogs and podcasts that we see online are just snapshots – carefully curated glimpses into someone's edited life. Some of them might contain a hint that not everything is perfect for them either. They might admit that some of what they post is aspirational, not actual. They're not trying to mislead you. (Unless they are.) They're just trying to make something beautiful.
And that's fine, but don't let it make you feel less than. Don't let it daunt you.
Let it be what it is.
What if this holiday isn't meant to be magical? What if it's okay to be quiet, simple, and even a bit uneventful?
Because sometimes, that's where good things happen. We're usually too busy to notice tiny, mundane things. But maybe this is a holiday for small joys – the kind you miss unless you're paying attention.
- the second cup of coffee that you actually taste and savor because you're not in a hurry
- the friend you run into that you haven't seen for so long
- unexpected words of comfort or encouragement
- the pretty card that arrives from your elderly aunt who lives in Germany
- the child who decides on his own that he wants to give his allowance to charity
- the bright winter stars
- a song you like coming on the radio
- the wonky paper snowflakes cut out by your children – definitely no two alike
- light morning fog in a wintry orchard turning pink in the rising sun
- the nostalgic fun of unboxing a few favorite old Christmas decorations
- saying no without guilt and with relief
- covering up warm and taking a deep breath as you settle in to sleep in your comfortable bed
These are your highlights, and they're pretty wonderful. And when you do whatever you decide you can do for Christmas this year, it will be wonderful too. It will be yours, not an influencer's. As you settle in to watch It's a Wonderful Life for the nth time while sipping on some hot spiced apple cider and wrapping the few gifts you bought or made, you won't feel burned-out, exhausted, or regretful.
You'll feel just right.
This is not my old holiday book. It's a new volume full of practical strategies to help you focus on what you value about this season, letting you design a minimalist holiday that celebrates what's most important. Going for the "the best holiday ever" can leave you feeling burned-out by Christmas Day. In fact, it can leave you tired, stressed, dissatisfied, in debt, and fatter. So why not ease off for the sake of more joy? When you trim down a bit and emphasize what you love, you're sure to find the happiness and inspiration you're longing for.
With chapters on creating a non-consumer Christmas, how to make a simpler holiday unforgettable, celebrating a greener Christmas, how to cultivate peace, and more, there's something here for everyone. I've also included a project index for those of you who like to make some of your gifts and décor.
Available in an e-book edition, as a paperback, and as a beautiful, giftable hardcover.
* This blog is supported by YOU, dear reader. If you purchase through my links, I may earn a small commission.
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