The Obligation of Christmas

I love Christmas but this year I am super aware of the amount of obligation involved. It’s not a new thing - just something that I can no longer unsee.

People feel obligated to do a lot. A lot when they are already stretched. Cards to send, gifts to buy and wrap, food to plan and manage.

And there is a lot to manage emotionally. The people you normally avoid. The drama and the effort.

'Should' is the heaviest word at Christmas. I should spend more. I should invite them. I should make it special. I should be grateful. I should be joyful. I should make everyone happy.

The exhausted provider shows up at Christmas in full force. You're responsible for making it magical, making it memorable, making it perfect. You're there for everyone except yourself, smiling on the outside while secretly wondering if you could just skip the whole thing and wake up on Boxing Day.

Somewhere along the line, we confused tradition with obligation. We confused celebration with performance. We confused generosity with exhaustion.

It's exhausting trying to be everything to everyone and no one is actually asking us to!

We think that the world will stop if everything isn’t done. We think that other people's expectations matter more than our own energy. We've decided that keeping everyone else happy is more important than actually enjoying the day ourselves. 

“I want to spend less of my life dwelling in obligation and more dwelling in possibility.”

Emily Dickinson wrote that, and she was onto something.

Now is the perfect time to make some decisions about next year - to sit in the energy of drowning in shoulds and make some decisions on what we want and how things could be different.

Christmas is one day. It does not require you to sacrifice your sanity, your bank account, or your energy reserves. You get to decide what Christmas looks like for you.

Maybe that means saying no to the massive family gathering and having a quiet lunch with just your partner and kids. Maybe it means buying fewer gifts but more thoughtful ones. Maybe it means serving a BBQ instead of a traditional roast because it's summer in New Zealand and who the hell wants to be stuck in a hot kitchen for hours? Maybe it means skipping the decorations altogether because you actually don't care about them.

The beautiful thing about being an adult is that you can change your mind. You can decide that the Christmas you've been having isn't the Christmas you want anymore.

Instead of asking "What do I have to do?" try asking "What would feel good?"

What would actually bring you joy? What would fill your cup instead of draining it? What would make Christmas energising instead of exhausting?

For some people, that might be going all out with decorations and cooking because they genuinely love it. For others, it might be simplifying everything down to the absolute essentials. Both are valid. Neither is wrong.

The only wrong choice is doing what you don't want to do and resenting every minute of it.

Take a minute to check in with yourself. How do you actually feel about Christmas? Not how you think you should feel. Not how you're performing for others. How do you feel?

Angry? Sad? Overwhelmed? Disillusioned? Excited? Indifferent? 

All of those feelings are allowed. You're allowed to not love Christmas. You're allowed to find it stressful. You're allowed to wish it would just be over already.

And once you're honest about how you feel, you can start making different choices. 

If you arrive at Christmas exhausted, resentful, and running on empty, that's the energy everyone gets. If you arrive rested, present, and actually enjoying yourself, that's what fills the room.

The best gift you can give anyone at Christmas is your presence, not your performance.

Your genuine enjoyment, not your obligation-fuelled martyrdom.

Christmas happens every year. You can spend it dwelling in obligation, or you can take your power back and dwell in possibility instead. 

The choice, as always, is yours.