Choosing Peace Over Perfection
This time of year (which I genuinely adore) has always been a mix of pure joy and running myself into the ground. I loved the lights, the magic, the relaxed days at work, making cookies and Chex Mix with my kids, and watching our stack of holiday movies.
But I was also dealing with a whole lot of self-imposed pressure. December became a race to make everything perfect. Planning and buying gifts for both sides, doing all the work for a holiday card no one else in my house cared about, visiting multiple families in a day.
Working extra hours so I could take time off with my kids. Living through the first holidays after losing my parents and sticking around out of obligation when I wanted to be anywhere but home. Year-end reviews. It was exhausting, and it didn’t have to be.
The Mental Load of December
December has a way of piling on. So many friends and clients I know approach December feeling some combination of tired, anxious, or just overwhelmed.
They are often the one who notices what everyone needs, keeps the calendar straight, plans the gifts, handles the food, and tries to create something meaningful for everyone. Others might be happy to help when asked, but the thinking part, the remembering part, that lives with them.
What Our Relationships Teach Us About Ourselves
Every partnership is made up of two people doing the best they know how, shaped by the stories and survival strategies of their childhoods and lived experiences.
For some, safety meant avoiding conflict, staying quiet, not rocking the boat.
For others, safety meant speaking up, taking control, or fighting back.
Neither is wrong. They’re strengths that once kept us safe.
But over time, those same strategies of perfectionism, avoidance, control, people-pleasing can quietly sabotage our relationships.
𝗕𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗔𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲
For a long time, I believed being a good friend or co-worker meant being accommodating.
Being dependable meant saying yes.
Being kind meant never pushing back.
I’ll admit, I’ve been steamrolled more than once.
I’m fully capable of standing up for myself, but for years, I didn’t do it well. Not early enough. Not clearly enough. Not until I was pushed to the edge.
