“To be alive is to be continually thrown out of balance.” -Alan Watts

 

My Interpretation: Nothing about life stays still. Especially not during the holidays. You think you are steady, then the season shows up with its chaos & reminders & emotional plot twists, & suddenly you are relearning your footing all over again.

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THE HOLIDAY WHIPLASH I PRETEND I AM PREPARED FOR

Every year, I tell myself the same lie:

 

“I’m ready for the holidays this time.”

 

I say it with confidence, like a woman who has:

↪︎ a functioning family

↪︎ stable traditions

↪︎ predictable outcomes

↪︎ & an emotional foundation stronger than a gingerbread house roof.

 

It is adorable, really.

 

Because the truth?

 

Holiday season hits me like a mood swing with a car seat.

 

One minute I am fine –

lighting a candle, planning meals, acting like a stable domestic goddess.

The next minute I am staring at the wall –

wondering why my chest suddenly feels like December sits on it.

 

The holidays do not ease in gently.

They pounce.

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THE EXPECTATIONS VS REALITY COLLISION

Expectation:

≫ cozy vibes

≫ steady joy

≫ beautiful photos

≫ a peaceful house

≫ a general sense of merriment

 

Reality:

⇥ me, holding seventeen mental tabs open

⇥ trying to remember who said they were coming

⇥ who is not coming

⇥ who might come

⇥ who will text the morning of

⇥ who will cancel mid-event

⇥ & who will cause emotional weather patterns I did not forecast.

 

I do not think people understand

how many micro-adjustments a single holiday requires.

 

You are decorating with one hand

deep-breathing with the other

& silently making contingency plans

in case someone’s mood derails the room.

 

& all of this is before anyone even arrives.

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THE EMOTIONAL AFTERSHOCK OF BEING “THE ONE WHO HOLDS IT”

There is a specific ache

to being the stable one

in a season that demands more than it returns.

 

You are not just prepping the house.

You are prepping the emotional atmosphere.

You are prepping for surprises.

You are prepping for silence that hurts.

You are prepping for memories

that sneak up & hit you harder than ornaments falling off the tree.

 

You wonder if anyone notices

how much weight this month puts on your shoulders.

 

Not the to-do list weight.

The invisible one.

 

The one that comes from growing up without your own stable traditions.

The one that comes from grieving people who should be here.

The one that comes from trying to make magic for a child

without ever having known that magic yourself.

 

The holidays make you remember

& forget

& relive

& wish

all at once.

 

It is exhausting

in a way you cannot explain without sounding dramatic.

---

THE MOMENT EVERYTHING FEELS TOO LOUD

There is always one moment where the holiday noise gets too big.

 

The laughter.

The conversations.

The mess.

The expectations.

The emotional temperature in the room shifting without warning.

 

It is like your body goes

“Oh. We are doing this again.”

 

The overstimulation

the pressure

the memories

the grief

the joy

the guilt

the mental load

the effort

the reminders

the everything all at once.

 

Holiday whiplash is not emotional instability –

it is emotional accuracy.

Your nervous system remembers

what your brain politely tries to forget.

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THE QUIET PART I DO NOT SAY OUT LOUD

I love holidays.

I do.

But they break me open every year.

 

Not in a tragic way.

In a truth-telling way.

 

Holidays reveal the gaps:

⇢ who is gone

⇢ who never showed up

⇢ who only shows up halfway

⇢ who I have outgrown

⇢ who I still miss

⇢ who I am still carrying

⇢ who my son deserves

⇢ who I deserve

⇢ who I have had to become

because no one else ever stepped into that role for me.

 

It is beautiful.

It is painful.

It is both.

 

Whiplash.

---

THE PART I ALWAYS COME BACK TO

Even with the chaos

the grief

the unpredictability

the emotional load

& the exhaustion –

I always return to this:

 

I am building a holiday my son will not have to recover from.

 

Even if I am tired.

Even if I am overwhelmed.

Even if no one sees how hard I am trying.

Even if the day feels heavy

or hollow

or unsteady in my bones.

 

Rowan will remember warmth.

He will remember laughter.

He will remember safety.

He will remember the feeling of being wanted

in a room that was built for him.

 

& that makes the whiplash worth it.

 

Even if it knocks the wind out of me on the way.

 

Xoxo ♡