Christmas day!

Christmas is usually a time for family—days off, a chance to gather with those you love and to make memories that last. It’s meant to be a time of joy, togetherness, and celebration. But over the years, it’s become clear that things have changed. The family has evolved into something different. We’re living our own lives, keeping our own money, and pretending that everything is fine, hoping all the debit orders will go off without a hitch. We spend too much during the holidays trying to make it special, and in doing so, we forget about the little things—those everyday adult responsibilities that need attention, that keep us grounded.

This year, it feels even more pronounced. My husband has fallen ill, and there’s not much of a festive spirit to speak of. The weather is cold, and low clouds hover in the sky, almost like it’s waiting to rain. Yes, I enjoy the rain, but today it feels different—it’s a quiet Christmas. As I reflect on everything this morning, there’s a sense of gloom that settles in. We had the beers chilled, and we were supposed to be enjoying this time together, but now I sit with my husband, who is ill, and a deep fear in my heart.

I’m not sure what I’m afraid of, but I know I’m scared of what comes next. I’ve always known the rule of thumb: manifestation, believing everything will work out. But people’s judgments about where you are in life are often influenced by how you feel, and shutting yourself off from the world doesn’t make for a great holiday. It’s hard not to let the grey clouds outside remind me of Christmases past—when I spent a lonely holiday in Ireland, in bed watching a black and white TV, eating snacks in my pajamas. That memory takes me back to the feeling of being truly alone, stirring up that sense of isolation.

I know my husband didn’t ask to be ill, and I know it’s not his fault. But it doesn’t change the fact that this feels like a very bleak end to the year. As much as I want to feel the magic of Christmas, this year I just don’t. I almost wish I could skip this holiday and fast-forward to January—not because I’m ungrateful, but because right now, I just feel like there’s nothing worth celebrating.

The year started out with some fun, with moments of joy, and yet we even opened our presents before Christmas Day had arrived. It seems we rushed through the excitement as if trying to grab hold of a fleeting moment that wasn’t really there. I’m holding onto the hope that the new year will bring a fresh start, a time to heal, reflect, and reconnect.

So, this Christmas, I’m choosing quiet reflection over festivity. I’m choosing to sit in the uncertainty and the fear, to acknowledge the struggles, and to allow myself the space to not feel like I have to make everything perfect. Maybe next year will be different. Maybe next year, we will find a way to truly celebrate—without the pressure, without the expectations, and without the fear of what comes next. For now, though, I’m just waiting for the year to end, and hoping that January will bring a little more clarity.