Breathing@Christmas.

Dear One,

The holidays are a special time for so many – the magic, the beauty, the expectation, the excitement. A time for peace, love, and cherished moments. 

But this letter is not for them. This letter is for you. 

This letter is for those that can’t find the magic. Those that sit at beautifully adorned tables feeling as if the faces around it resemble yours, but the hearts could not possibly feel more like strangers. Those that sit wondering if someone will notice how much you are hurting. Those that have shed their old skin, only to be reminded of who they were, or trapped by being treated as if they haven’t grown at all. Those whose magic seemed to fade this year with the passing of a loved one. Those that answer questions like, “do you have a boyfriend yet”, or “when are you going to have a baby?” with the heavy heart of being in a season of waiting. Those that feel the Sunday night stomachache on Christmas Eve in preparation for the toxicity of the next day. Those mercilessly pushing their own needs aside and pouring themselves out, only to be left feeling empty. And those cracking under the weight of the hustle to do and be more to prove that you are worthy of belonging. 

I. See. You. When the people around your table ask you how you are and don’t wait for a true answer – I see you. I know you’re not okay this year. I also believe that it’s okay to not be okay. I have held a season of waiting close to my chest over the holidays, and I know the joy that it steals. 

I don’t have beautiful advice for your broken heart, because I’m not sure advice is what you need. Maybe, you just need to give yourself permission to not be okay this year. If you are sitting at a table of emotional strangers, give yourself permission to rest in knowing that who you are is vastly more important than who they choose to see. If your magic is overcome by grief this year, give yourself permission to cradle that loss like the treasured souvenir of a love well given and received. If you are in a season of waiting for your next big life circumstance, give yourself permission to be patient with your life, knowing that all beautiful pieces take time to be painted – and your watercolored brilliance will come. If you’re already feeling the poisoning of your people being volatile or hostile, give yourself permission to inhale the peace of knowing you will create a different tribe for yourself – be it friends, a non biological family, or the one you’ll create with your spouse – and exhale the toxicity filling your lungs. If you’re empty for others, give yourself permission to empower others to meet their needs independently. If you’re a relentless prover, give yourself permission to be loved as you ARE, not for what you can DO. 

Give yourself permission to come up for air this year, Love. Let your bones not crack under the weight of failed expectations, and rest under the assurance that you are not alone. The tribe that is those seeing the lights, but not feeling their illumination this year is inclusive, and all hurting are welcome. Let’s us prop one another upright, or allow one another to collapse for a moment. 

This Christmas, a time of belief. Something I believe in – is you. 

May you breathe this year. A full, deep breath of knowing. Knowing that you are not alone, and we are with you. Inhale your truth, and exhale anything that makes you doubt it. You are loved. You are worthy. You are seen. You are never alone.