Let’s imagine for a minute: What would it be like if this holiday season and beyond, into 2023, we all collectively let go of expectations—those we have of others and, especially, of ourselves. Now I don’t mean expectations of good behaviour and basic responsibility, being kind and courteous, following safety rules, etc. I mean all the extras: the unspoken “shoulds” and the blatantly broadcast Insta-impossibilities.
Pressure to over-perform, whether at work, at home or socially is real, and it can be suffocating. The feeling is especially profound at this time of year.
Before every holiday season I try to give myself a little pep talk, reminders that the most important “things” are not things at all, and that it doesn’t need to be about endless baking or crafting or shopping.
However, as the season nears, I inevitably feel my anxiety stirring: “Am I doing enough? Have I put enough thought and effort into this gift to make up for the fact that it isn’t expensive? Will there be enough magical moments and core memory-making for my son?
Will it ever be enough? Will I ever be enough?”
Spending any amount of time-consuming modern media can certainly trigger and amplify these doubts. I know I’m a good mom, and my son’s safety, growth and happiness are my top priorities. I work hard to make sure he thrives and knows he is loved. My family and friends know I love them and I am here for them. I am kind and as generous as my means allow.
But even if I try to look at this objectively, all it takes is a few minutes on social media seeing what other moms are doing and I’m chastising myself for not doing more, more, more!
These are challenging times. Many are cinching financial belts a little tighter, and the pandemic has also inspired a lot of us to re-examine where we spend our soul-energy. Do we grind ourselves to death to do All. The. Things. or do we give more time to the experiences and people who bring us joy and recharge our batteries instead of draining them?
And do people we care about need us to turn ourselves inside-out to produce tangible “proof” that we love them, just because it is a particular time of year?
Absolutely not.
When I look way, WAY back to when I was my son’s age, my best memories are not those of how many “must-do” activities we crammed in over the holidays, or how perfect the table settings looked at Christmas dinner, or whether the Elf-on-the-Shelf entertained us sufficiently with its nightly hi-jinx. No way. I remember my grandpa’s jokes, my family’s laughter, my mom’s delicious baking (that she made because she actually loves baking), the comfort of recycled decorations and familiar rituals and the warmth of being together.
I don’t remember many of the presents I’ve received during my life, but I definitely remember how people have been present for me, with me. It’s such a clichéd statement: “Bring your “presence,” not “presents,” but I think a lot of us (including me!) need to re-examine this idea, that we don’t have to show up for people with all the doo-dads, bells, whistles and trimmings. We just have to really, authentically show up. And not just for the holidays, but throughout the year.
For me, this means checking in with people I love and spending time with them. Not having to have “something to do,” but just being there, together, doing everyday things or even nothing at all. This means listening to each other and helping where we can. This means not making myself cranky by overburdening myself with extra things I think I “should” do because everyone else is and instead soaking up the moments I have with my family and friends as they are, right now.
My son would likely not remember the hours of planning and work I could put into craft projects or perfectly colour-co-ordinated decorations. He would remember that Mama was busy and stressed out and doing things that he couldn’t be a part of.
Instead, I believe (and hope) he will remember all the games I play with him (that he usually beats me at), our rock-hounding adventures on the beach and hopefully our nightly stories when he snuggles in and we go on adventures together within the pages of a favourite book. These things don’t get as much of a chance to happen when there is too much doing, doing, doing and stuff, stuff, stuff.
This year I remind myself that going overboard does not make someone feel more special, or more loved. Connection does. So we might not have a Pintrest-worthy holiday display or piles of gifts, or particularly remarkable adventures to recount, but we will have laughter, and joy, and lots of love with our special people. And I think that is absolutely enough.
