Ghosts of Christmas Past - Letting Go Of Holiday Rules
I’m writing this before my vacation, but it’s being posted while I’m exploring Colombia. I’m feeling the rising excitement and anxiety I normally experience before travel and I’m pre-planning things like getting our Christmas tree, thinking of what types of treats and goodies to get for Luis’ granddaughters. This will be the third Christmas after informing my family that we were no longer doing a gift exchange; my kids are now full-blown adults, I certainly don’t need anything from them or my parents and prefer the clichéd quality time over the stress of buying presents for everyone. I’d much rather get something unprompted and inspired instead of forcing a list of things to purchase and then wrap, all under a sense of pressure.
Each holiday season, I tend to reflect on the mantle passed on to me by my Grandma, the matriarch who ran the Christmas ship in a super-structured way without allowing for any deviation from pure tradition; this included a break from gift-opening for running a load of laundry.
No, I’m not joking. I was taught how to cook each dish the way she did, which was the way her mother or mother-in-law did. I have her green recipe card box that houses all of these recipes, including one for the infamous Tomato Aspic, which, much to her displeasure (at first), we began calling ASS-pick back in the 90’s. As her faculties began to decline, I began taking over the meal, bit by bit, each dish I made, waiting for her to approve of - but never without a little comment about how she would have done this or that, ensuring everyone knew SHE was the true architect of the meal.
I never fully surrendered myself to her ways; out of necessity, when I got divorced, and Christmas was shared on alternating years between parental homes, she acquiesced to having Christmas dinner on Boxing Day (even if it’s NOT Christmas Day) so that the kids would be able to join us and not feel left out. When she died, I declared that Christmas would no longer include stress and rigidity.
This seemed to be a relief to everyone. But somehow I took on more than I could handle in the name of saving everyone else from the stress. I spent weeks preparing food that the family would eat over 3 days, because you know that a good French-Canadian Christmas starts with the 24th with Tourtière! I’d ready the kitchen to get the 48-hour brined turkey into the oven before everyone arrived for breakfast on Christmas Day. Eggs Benedict, including home-made potato rösti, all being prepared nice and early so we could feast before presents.
I had made myself the hub for the holidays in the name of relaxation in rebellion against my grandmother, while simultaneously creating a state of exhaustion for myself. One year, I worked away in the kitchen, getting increasingly cranky and frankly unpleasant to be around, finally winding up in the ER with severe kidney stones. I wasn’t even acknowledging my own pain while still trying to make sure everyone around me was enjoying themselves.
That was the start of yet another wakeup call.
Slowly, I reduced the full 3 days of family time to one meal. Christmas dinner - on the 25th or 26th. But I still held on to the full meal. That is, until 3 years ago. That year, I had increased my workload significantly, and we collectively made a decision to outsource the meal completely.
The mental space it provided was so strange at first. I could feel parts of myself struggling to let go of things like the cost and value, ignoring the whole time element that I can easily lay out for my executive coaching clients. I struggled knowing that I could cook something that tasted much better than something mass-produced, because I do carry a fair amount of pride in my cooking skills! But that faded pretty quickly as Christmas day approached and I had more time to spend with Luis doing things that were filled with joy, fun and purpose rather than double and triple checking grocery lists.
Last year, I wanted to do some cooking, but not ALL of it, and so delegation began. I would still cook the turkey and the dessert, but everything else had to be made by others ahead of time and be ready for us to feast upon. A freezing rain storm resulted in the whole thing getting cancelled, so Luis, my eldest, his girlfriend and I were saddled with a pretty large amount of turkey, but it was still one of the most relaxing Christmases, and this year is shaping up similarly. I’m never shifting back to the solo model, and I believe you should shed those expectations for yourself as well.
Why this matters for my work
In SoulPoint Journeys, I track patterns, inner and outer. In Professional Master Clearings™, I often work with vows and personal curses, the inherited promises that weave themselves into family traditions. It is easy to carry someone else’s rules without noticing that we ever agreed to them.
Letting go began with small choices, then I asked for a full shift. Old stories pulled at me: fear of disappointing people, criticism about not doing enough. I can walk myself through my own process, and Luis, who is a clinical psychologist, helped me sort the stories. With a clearing on top, spaciousness returned. I could feel what I had stopped carrying and where other people’s expectations still lived. From there, I could witness those patterns without taking them on. What replaced them was simple: room to enjoy the season and the people I love.
If you’re reading this and feeling a full body YES, if you’re ready to set down what isn’t yours and untangle inherited rules, then I invite you to book a chat with me, and we can explore the simplest place to start and the right container.
