Setting aside our festive season expectations
And looking ahead to the new year...
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The other week as I was texting one of my good friends to arrange a much-needed Christmas catch up—and we were playing the inevitable ping-pong text game whereby two adults desperately try to coordinate conflicting calendars in an effort to find a couple of hours of free time amidst the chaos of December—she asked me how I was coping having the whole family in town for the holidays.
Silently chuckling to myself, I responded with a tirade of text messages filling her in on how while it was of course lovely to see everyone, I was also struggling with how to politely navigate the sometimes complex family dynamics without firstly surrendering my own boundaries or secondly, inadvertently pissing anyone else off in the process.
While I’d love to be able to report that it has been smooth sailing across the board, inevitably there have been moments of tension when conversations have been lost in translation or veered off course and I have been left standing in my bedroom, feeling more like my nine year old self than ever before.
Understanding my predicament perfectly, my friend then said something totally profound about this weird time of year—that despite all our efforts, there remains so much pressure surrounding what it should feel like, when often, it just doesn’t. As I read her message, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders because of course, she was absolutely right.
For many of us, the holiday season is really the only time of year when we have a substantial break from our regular routine. And yet just as we feel ourselves coming down from the frazzle and fatigue of the previous months, we decide to kick off festivities by spending significant chunks of time with extended family or heading off on holiday to find ourselves simply parenting in another location—all the while being told we should be having THE BEST TIME EVER just because it’s Christmas. It’s a lot of pressure to sustain, especially when we’re exhausted.
Despite spending many hours in therapy this year doing ‘the work’ to unravel a few of my own self-sabotaging personality traits so that I create more positive patterns moving forward—like many, I suspect, I still struggle to navigate how to assert myself as an adult in my own space when I’m surrounded by people who have known me since I was a child. The smallest moments can feel so loaded, every day feels heavy with expectation and every interaction feels like it should be overflowing with joy. But with two young children to run around after, the days of December are no more filled with joy simply because it’s Christmas than any other time of year. I’m still making snacks every three and a half minutes, I’m still trying to think of activities to keep everyone sane and occupied when it’s raining and if anything, I’m finding myself with less time and space to do all the extra bits and pieces of domestic labour that are required at this time of year: namely wrapping gifts, prepping food for the masses and keeping the laundry basket from overflowing.
As with most things in life, I fear the expectations for what the silly season should feel like are self imposed. But there is also an element of societal pressure at play when we’re told repeatedly that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. And it can be—absolutely. There are so many moments of joy to be savoured amongst the chaos. For me, the pleasure of being able to spend such concentrated time with my three year old has been a gift I wasn’t expecting. While we have one day a week together throughout the year anyway, it always feels chaotic as we attempt to juggle nap times, play dates and swimming lessons. So to have no schedule, no expectations and no set plans has felt immensely freeing—and his little personality has blossomed so much already as he too, settles into the swing of summer.
But admittedly, there have also been moments in the last couple of weeks where I’ve felt totally untethered. The inevitable overstimulation that comes from seeing family and/or friends everyday, combined with festive feasting, broken sleep, constant requests from the kids and a complete absence of alone time has been tough. I’m someone who recharges when I’m alone and during the rest of the year I have great swathes of time at home to potter, write, read or simply sit in stillness (albeit while the baby is napping)—so despite doing my best to pop my feet up and bury my nose in a book as much as possible, I am still craving more aloneness. And I guess that’s okay.
Two things can be true at once and in the context of Christmas, I think it’s okay to admit that the expectations we feel for everything to be perfect and joyful are not always met. Sometimes they are, but the best we can do is just surrender to the silly season. Set aside the pressure we feel—no matter if it’s self imposed, societal or familial—and try to just live moment to moment.
And if your one year old decides to break their arm the day before Christmas (true story), then perhaps pour yourself an extra glass of champagne and toast to the fact that the year’s almost over…
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