Day Three

The 12 Days of an Alternative Christmas.

For the person who needs to cry in the corner when no one is looking.

There is a particular kind of sadness that does not want attention.

It does not want to be asked about.
It does not want fixing.
It wants privacy and permission.

Christmas brings pressure that is rarely spoken about.

• The pressure of visiting family when it feels complicated.

• The pressure of keeping commitments that do not fit who you are right now.

• The pressure of stepping into someone else’s rituals and pretending they feel like home.

There is also the quieter pressure, trying endlessly to make the whole thing balance.

• Have I done enough.

• Have I shown up properly.

• Have I let someone down without meaning to.

  
  And running underneath it all, the worries that do not stop just because it is December.
  The business | the work | whatever is coming next | the new year.
  
  Christmas is loud and it fills every space.
  There is very little room for the person who is holding everything together internally.
  
  Stephanie Harrison writes about how often we perform happiness because we think it is what makes us acceptable.
  Especially at this time of year and therefore we keep going.
  We smile.
We manage.
We try to make it work for everyone.
  
  Then we find a corner.
A bathroom.
A car.
A moment when no one is watching.
  And we cry.
  
  If that is you, I want to say this clearly.
  There is nothing wrong with you.
  
  You are not ungrateful.
You are not failing.
You are not broken for finding this hard.
  You are responding honestly to weight that has nowhere else to go.
  
  The problem is not your tears.
The problem is a season that pretends balance is effortless.
  This post is not here to encourage you to explain yourself.
It is not asking you to push through.
  It is simply permission to put something down, even briefly.
  
  If the only way you can get through this season is by releasing it where no one can see, that still counts.
  
  You are allowed to carry responsibility and still feel overwhelmed.
  
  This series is for the people holding themselves together quietly.
  
  Remember:
  I am writing this as someone who does not have it all together.
  This is not positivity. It is presence.

  If this landed, it is because you are not alone, even when it feels like you are.
  I wish you good health this Christmas.
  Truly.
  
  The and. team
  Debbie Halls-Evans
  
  PS.
I am writing this series because the non stop marketing campaigns and messaging of Christmas idealisms can leave a lot of people unseen.
  This is not about doing more and not about fixing anyone.
  It is an invitation to notice and to think and to see.
  One day at a time.
  This is Day Three