When the season feels more frazzled than festive

The end of the year tends to come in like a warm breeze and a whirlwind all at once.

One moment we’re thinking, goodness, wasn’t it just Easter? and the next, our calendar is dotted with gatherings, shared meals, school concerts, travel plans, and the gentle (or not-so-gentle) pull of everyone else’s needs. 

People often describe December as “busy”, but that never quite captures it, does it? It’s busy, yes, but it’s also emotional, nostalgic, joyful, tender – and sometimes quietly overwhelming. 

For some, this season is full of excitement. For others, it feels more like trying to walk through water. Doable, but heavier than it should be. Even with the best intentions, we can find ourselves saying yes to everything because it all seems important.  

By the time we reach the middle of the month, our sleep has shifted, our meals look different, and suddenly we’re running on a nervous system that’s slightly frayed around the edges. 

There’s nothing wrong with you if you feel this. Truly. Humans were never meant to operate at a festive sprint. 

This time of the year can feel strangely intense partly due to the extra demands. More meals to prepare. More decisions to make. More people to consider. Even enjoyable things – a street party, family dropping in, a grandchild’s concert – still ask something of us. Our bodies register that. 

There’s also the emotional load that creeps in quietly. The sense of wanting everything to go smoothly. The old habits of keeping the peace or holding things together. 

Many people also find that their inner “I’ll just push through” voice returns – the one that might have served them decades ago but feels a little less helpful now. 

And then there’s the part that’s harder to articulate. This season has a way of bringing our memories forward. A favourite carol, an empty chair at the table, the sight of ornaments that have lived many lives. Someone who’s no longer here, but still very much here. 

Grief doesn’t follow the calendar. It bends time. You might find yourself unexpectedly teary in the supermarket, or unusually quiet at a family gathering, and not realise why until later. That’s love, still doing its work – regardless of whether it’s been days, weeks, months, or many, many years.

None of this requires dramatic change. Small, kind choices make an enormous difference. Some that you may like to incorporate this season include:  

• Pausing before answering invitations. A gentle “let me check” buys you breathing space – literally and emotionally.
• Letting your breath be an anchor. A slow exhale is one of the most underrated tools for calming the nervous system.
• Balancing full days with softer ones. Ten quiet minutes with a book, a cup of tea in the garden, or a slow wander outside can reset your inner pace. Or blocking out an afternoon in an otherwise busy week, can help you catch your breath.
• Eating in a way that steadies you. Between the richer meals, choose foods that feel grounding and nourishing, rather than depleting.
• Creating a tiny ritual for those you miss. Light a candle. Whisper their name. Tell a story about them. It honours the ache instead of swallowing it.
• Lowering the bar more than you think you should. Nothing about this season needs to be perfect. It simply needs to be real.
• Resting when you can. Sit down before you feel desperate to. Let yourself recover between moments.

If this time of year feels frazzled rather than festive, please know you’re not alone – and there is nothing wrong with you for feeling that way. You are carrying memories, expectations, responsibilities, joys and worries, often all in the same hour.

The world may speed up in December, but your body doesn’t have to match its pace. You’re allowed to soften. To breathe. To take things one moment at a time. And to let your heart feel exactly what it feels – joy, tenderness, longing, or all three tangled together.

A season that supports you is one that honours your humanity. You deserve that. Every single year.