The Myth of the Perfect Holiday & the Magic of the Pause
We’ve reached the time of year that is full in so many ways—our calendars, our bellies, and hopefully, at least sometimes, our hearts.
But when the days get dense with to-do lists and the air tight with expectations, it’s easy to forget to pause. To breathe. To be.
I know it too well: the striving to create the perfect Christmas for my children. Wanting magic in every corner, wanting the memory-making to be just right. But in the doing of it all, I can become so distracted from actually being with them—the very thing I’m supposedly doing it for.
And when I slip—into reactivity, into snapping, into overstimulated silence—there it is again: guilt. Shame. That ache that says, you should have done better.
Even though I know it’s not all or nothing. Even though I do repair. Even though I’ve likely done a hundred beautiful things that day, my brain latches onto the one moment I raised my voice because I felt underappreciated and overloaded. And that’s the moment that echoes.
But here’s the truth I return to again and again:
I am not a bad mom because I had a hard moment.
I am not doing a bad job because my kids talk back (what feels like constantly).
Some days are just really f**ing hard.
So I’m practicing catching myself. Not just when I snap, but when I start to spiral into shame. Because that spiral helps no one—not me, not my kids, not the part of me that just wants to do it all with love.
This season, I invite you to join me in small pauses. In brief moments of coming home to yourself in the middle of all the noise. Because the magic isn’t in the perfection. It’s in the presence.
🎙️ I’m honored to be guest hosting The Behind the Bluff Podcast for the next three weeks—offering five-minute meditations to help you find a quiet center in the midst of the holiday hum.
This week’s episode is titled: “Quiet Center in a Loud Season.”
Listen Here
✨ And a little preview of what’s ahead:
In January, my own podcast will launch with two weekly drops:
One: five-minute meditations to support nervous system regulation and creativity.
Two: deeper solo/guest conversations exploring art, embodiment, and mental health with rawness and soul.
🎨 Therapeutic Art Prompt: “What’s Still Beautiful?”
When the noise gets loud or the guilt gets heavy, grab a piece of paper. No need for pretty supplies. Just something to make marks with.
Draw or paint a scene from your day that felt messy or overwhelming.
Let yourself feel it as you move—don't edit or tidy it.
Then, layer over it with color, light, softness.
Ask yourself: what was still beautiful here? A small kindness, a breath, a flicker of presence?
Circle it. Frame it. Make it visible.
Let your art remind you: the mess doesn’t erase the magic.
If you’re sensing a quiet nudge toward deeper support in the year ahead,
I’ll be opening a few Creative Mentorship spaces in 2026.
You can read more here, or simply reach out with a “I’m curious.”
No pressure. No performance.
Just an open door.
Holding the messy, magical middle with you,
Jess
