Last year we did Christmas a bit differently. We skipped most of “pre-Christmas.”
We deliberately did no decorating, bought no presents, put up no tree, and sent no cards for most of December. Instead, we spent three weeks at a slow pace: reading, walking, talking and watching the ocean. We did no preparation, and we didn’t seem to have any anxiety about it.
At the end of those three weeks, just before Christmas, we went out, bought a tree and a few presents and came home to enjoy a few hours decorating and watching the cats climb the tree. We had a nice meal and opened presents on Christmas Day and sent out New Years greetings to our friends and family a couple days later.
This can be a meaningful time of year to visit with friends and family, and enjoy some good food and time off from work. But often our expectations get in the way.
We wind up expecting so much--from ourselves, mostly--that the season is defined by stress grinding us for weeks. Why do we do this to ourselves?
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