The end of the year can always bring a little bit of tension. There’s the deep, honest desire to create a memorable holiday for the people we love, and then there’s the reality of the exhaustion. The endless lists, the running around, the pressure to make everything perfect.

If you’re anything like me, you can feel that pull. The one toward ideal meals, curated moments, beautiful tablescapes, and flawless plans. The cultural demand to create magic through effort. But when I really check in with myself in those moments, my breath is shallow. My shoulders are tight. My body feels like it’s bracing.

And honestly? There have been years where I spent so much energy chasing the idea of the perfect holiday that I missed the beautiful, messy, real moments right in front of me. The ones that actually make a holiday magical.

Like the way Coco sings little made-up Christmas songs while decorating the tree. Or Aaron making us hot chocolate and laughing when it overflows. Or our cozy mornings in pajamas, snow falling outside, the house still quiet.

Those are the moments I want to be awake for.

The Problem with Performance

I am so present to my conditioning of wanting to do it all. To be the devoted mother who has the house gorgeous, the gifts purchased early, and the calendar full. To be the woman who creates sparkle and perfection for everyone around her.

But every time I move into that version of “holiday hustle,” I lose the softness of who I really am.

It becomes performative. Tight. A little brittle.

Deep down, the truest desire in my heart, especially in this season of life… is to slow down with my family and soak up the sweet, real moments. This is our last Christmas as a family of three before baby arrives early next year. I want to feel it. I want to be in it. I want to remember it.

What I’ve learned is this:

When you perform, you lose yourself.

Your nervous system gets frayed.

Your presence becomes thin.

And you end up showing up for the people you love from depletion instead of devotion.

The truest lesson motherhood has taught me is that magic isn’t something you create through hustle; it’s something you reveal when you slow down enough to feel what’s real.

It’s in the quiet hum of the house before sunrise.

It’s in the messy art project that goes sideways.

It’s in the tiny fingerprints on the ornaments.

It’s in taking one long exhale before responding to your child’s demand.

That’s where the magic lives. Not in performing, but in being.

Choosing Grounded Presence

My choice this season is to be the grounded, attuned leader of my home… not the perfect hostess of my holiday.

It looks like asking myself honest questions and making real shifts:

• Slowing the Pace: Moving through my day with actual intention. If I’m rushing to get dinner on the table, I pause for three full breaths before chopping the vegetables. Sometimes I step outside for ten seconds of crisp Vermont air just to come back into my body.
• Releasing the Shoulds: Letting go of the pressure to attend every event or create the “Pinterest” version of the holidays. I don’t need to bake every cookie or say yes to every invitation. My rested, regulated presence is the greatest gift I can offer anyone.
• Anchoring in Ritual: Giving myself 15 minutes of quiet before the day begins. Tea, candle, journal, some movement … or sometimes just a few slow breaths. It’s how I fill my own well so I can pour into my family with love instead of overwhelm.

When we intentionally slow down and soften, we create space inside ourselves.

That spaciousness is where intuition comes back online.

It’s where clarity lives.

It’s where connection flourishes.

Your Invitation: A Practice for Coming Home

If you feel the pressure of the holidays starting to wrap itself around your nervous system, I invite you to drop out of your head and back into your body right now. This is a simple, potent practice for centering yourself in the middle of it all, even if your kids are calling your name or dinner is sizzling on the stove.

The Homecoming Practice: A Gentle Pause

1. Anchor Your Breath (The Exhale)

Find a moment of quiet. Maybe standing at the kitchen sink, or leaning against the bathroom counter for a breath of privacy. Place one hand on your belly and one on your heart. Inhale slowly. Then let it all out with a long, audible sigh.

Do this three times.

It tells your whole system: You are safe to soften.

2. Name the Real Thing (The Honesty)

Ask yourself, “What is the tightest feeling in my body right now?”

Is it your jaw? Your chest? Your stomach?

Name the emotion attached to it: I’m overwhelmed.

I’m scared I can’t do it all.

I’m carrying too much.

Honesty brings you back into your heart.

3. Choose Your Alignment (The Shift)

Ask, “What is one small, gentle action that would bring me back to myself right now?”

Not an item on the to-do list — an act of self-connection.

Maybe it’s five minutes on the couch.

Maybe it’s stepping outside.

Maybe it’s texting someone you love.

Maybe it’s letting one plan go.

This is how we lead our families and ourselves with softness and integrity.

Healing doesn’t shame you.

Expansion doesn’t require burnout.

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ShopMy: Holiday Essentials | Rituals for Rest

These are the small, devotional items that make coming home to yourself a sacred experience during the busyness of the season… the candles, the oils, the cozy extras that support you in remembering who you are. You don’t need much. Just warmth, light, and a willingness to slow down long enough to feel the magic that’s already here.

Shop here →

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We are offering women a place to come home to themselves.

This holiday season, let’s tell the truth. Let’s soften.

Let’s be fully present in the real, human, imperfectly magical moments.

With so much love,

Whitney