You're Allowed to Let This Holiday Season Be Different

 There's this invisible rule that says you have to power through grief, show up perfectly for the holidays, and keep all your commitments, especially as women.

But what if that rule is actually destroying the very peace we're desperate to create?

Picture this: You're holding a glass of water. Not heavy at first. But hold it for an hour, your arm starts shaking. Hold it all day, and your whole body cramps. The weight didn't change — but time made it unbearable. 

That's what happened when my mother-in-law passed. 

Life handed me this pause, and instead of setting the glass down, I almost kept holding it. Almost powered through launch mode, holiday obligations, the whole performance. Until I realized: the pause wasn't interrupting my life — it was protecting it.

Grief sorts life for you. It makes the essential things shine and lets the nonessential fall away. So instead of adding more to December, what if we subtracted? What if less chaos actually created more calm?

Less chaos, more calm.

There’s a point every year when the world seems to speed up — invitations, expectations, deadlines, traditions, and all the invisible emotional labor that lands squarely on the shoulders of women. Especially ADHD women in midlife.

But this year, life handed me a pause long before the holiday season even began.

We got the call that my mother-in-law had been given her last rites. Within hours, we packed bags and drove north to be at her bedside. What followed were seven long days of sitting, waiting, comforting, and simply being as she slowly slipped away — and another week of funeral arrangements, family gatherings, and the kind of exhaustion that settles deep in the bones.

There was no question in my mind what to do.

I’ve got my values written right at my desk: health, family, freedom. But I live them now so I don’t need that visual reminder.

I pressed the pause button.

Work, my launch of the ADHD Focus Framework, anything that wasn’t essential to my family or my own nervous system.

It wasn’t an easy two weeks. But it was an easy decision.

When Loss Teaches You to Slow Down

Here's what nobody tells you about forced rest: your body will teach you lessons your mind refuses to learn — if you're brave enough to listen.

Cancer was my first teacher. It didn't ask permission to slow me down — it just did. Like a circuit breaker that flips when the system is overloaded, my body said 'not today, not tomorrow, maybe not next month.' I fought it at first, because that's what we're taught to do. But stillness became my survival skill. So when grief arrived years later, I recognized the signs. That familiar heaviness. The way my nervous system whispered 'sit down.' This time, I didn't fight the circuit breaker — I was grateful for it.

ADHD burnout is real, y'all. And grief? Grief amplifies everything. So I gave myself permission to sit in the quiet, let presence matter more than productivity. I thought I was done learning... but then another wave arrived.

The International Conference on ADHD

A few weeks later, I attended the International Conference on ADHD — a gathering I look forward to every year.

It was incredible: inspiring speakers, powerful conversations, deep connections, and so many brilliant neurozesty humans in one place.More on what I learned coming soon.

 It filled me up. But it also cracked something open.

Somewhere between sessions, in the quiet of my hotel room, walking back to the conference, at breakfast — the grief returned. Not as sharply as before, but still like a tidal wave… reminding me: You’re still healing.

And I realized:

I wasn’t ready to return to “normal.”
I wasn’t ready to ramp up.
I still needed the pause.

So instead of coming home and jumping into launch mode, I made a different (and very hard) choice:
to keep things slower, softer, and more intentional, especially heading into the holidays.

The hardest thing about being a teacher: sometimes you have to cancel the class to live the lesson.

I was staring at my Holiday Calm(ish) workshop outline — the one my community loves, the one that fills up every year — and I felt like a fraud. How do you teach calm when your heart is still learning to breathe again? It's like trying to teach someone to swim while you're still figuring out how to float. The integrity hit me like a brick: I can't guide people to a place I'm still trying to find myself. So I made the scariest business decision of the year — I pressed pause on teaching how to pause.

This holiday season I'm living it. Less chaos, more calm. Fewer shoulds, more truth. And sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit: I'm still in the pause, still learning, still becoming. 

That IS the essence of Holiday Calm.

Uncluttering What Matters

Grief is the world's most efficient life coach — it cuts through your to-do list like a laser, separating what actually matters from what you think should matter.

On Sunday, I was staring at this 9-foot Christmas tree in my living room — the dream tree I bought because we finally have high ceilings. Half the lights didn't work, I was on a ladder for the fifth time, and every part of me was screaming “No. This is a lot of work.” 

Old me would've powered through, climbed that ladder twenty more times, made it perfect. But here's what I know about ADHD brains and the holidays: we already burn through our executive function just managing December's sensory overload — the lights, the music, the crowds, the constant decisions. Why would I waste what little energy I have left wrestling with a tree that's fighting me back?

So I took the dang tree down, packed it up and returned it. My new manageable and lit tree stands proudly with me feeling so much less stress!

Uncluttering the holidays isn't about doing less just to do less. It's about doing less so you can feel more. More peace, more connection, more breath. When you stop performing Christmas and start experiencing it, everything changes.

Where the Real Holiday Magic Lives

Want to know the dirty secret about holiday perfectionism? The harder you work to create magic, the more you actually stifle it.

Think about the best holiday memory you have. I bet it wasn't the year everything went perfectly. It was probably the year something went 'wrong':  the burnt cookies you laughed about, the crooked tree, the moment someone said 'forget the dishes' and you all played a game instead. That's because connection doesn't happen in the performance. It happens in the pause between performances.

Here's what that 'power through' mentality actually costs: your presence, your peace, and ironically, the very magic you're trying to create. The holidays aren't supposed to be endured. They're supposed to be experienced. 

So here's what I'm taking into this season: belonging not busyness, ease not expectation, presence not performance. Sometimes that looks like saying no. Sometimes it looks like calling the bare minimum good enough. You don't owe anyone a picture-perfect December — you owe yourself the peace of choosing presence over pressure.

Season of Giving (Something Brand New)

While I’m not running Holiday Calm(ish) this year, I still wanted to offer something meaningful — something supportive, generous, and accessible, and not overwhelming for any of us.

Especially in a year when so many things have gotten more expensive and the stress is high.

So this December, I’m creating something completely new — something I’ve never done before…drum roll…introducing

Season of Giving

Six days.
Six separate offers.
Each one a different program, coaching opportunity, or resource.

All at significantly accessible, special pricing.

Not a bundle.
Not an overwhelming “all-in-one” sale.

Just one simple and supportive offer each day.

If you want to be the first to see each day’s offer, join the waitlist here:
👉 Join the Waitlist

Season of Giving begins December 1st.

This is my way of honoring the pause, honoring you, and honoring the season with something that doesn’t add to the chaos — but subtracts from it.

Permission Granted

You know what nobody tells you about permission? You don't need to earn it, justify it, or apologize for it — you just need to give it to yourself.

December isn't designed for ADHD brains like ours: the overstimulation, the executive function demands, the emotional regulation required just to survive family gatherings. You don't need to earn permission to simplify. You just need to give it to yourself.

Think of this season like the oxygen mask on an airplane. You know how they say put your own mask on first? December is that airplane — turbulent, pressurized, everyone gasping for air. But we keep trying to help everyone else breathe while we're suffocating. What if this year, you put your mask on first? What if choosing calm isn't selfish — it's survival? What if letting this holiday season be different isn't giving up — it's growing up?

Uncluttering the holidays is an act of courage. An act of self-respect. Less chaos, more calm, more room to breathe. You don't need my permission, but I'm giving it anyway: you're allowed to let this season be different. And when you're ready for support that honors your pace not pushes it, I'm right here with you.