For the Woman Who Makes the Holiday Magic Happen ✨🎄
Years ago, when Charlie and I were living in California, we lived in this tiny little apartment in San Jose. And one day, I had a friend over. We were just hanging out in the living room. I was sitting on the couch, she was sitting in this big comfy chair we had, and at some point she got up. I don't even remember why. Maybe to grab something. Go to the bathroom. Whatever. But I remember what I did.
She stood up and I immediately walked over to where she was sitting and fluffed the pillows behind her. Like—I didn't even think about it. She got up. The pillows were squished. And apparently my body was like, We have an emergency. 😂 Ya’ll. I walked over, picked them up, fluffed them, put them back exactly where they belonged. While my friend was still there.
And I remember having this almost out-of-body moment where I saw myself doing it and thought:
Oh my gosh. How freaking rude is this? Could you even imagine being my friend right now?!
Because what was I doing? My friend hadn't messed up my house. She had sat in a chair. Of course the pillow looked like someone had been sitting against it. Someone had been sitting against it. And I don't know why this tiny, completely insignificant moment has stayed with me for all these years, but it has. Because once I saw myself in THAT moment, I started noticing that pattern everywhere. All the little ways I would tidy behind people.
Straighten something.
Move a cup.
Fix a blanket.
Wipe the counter.
Put something back where it belonged.
I LOVE a clean house. I love a beautifully decorated space. I love making my home feel warm and cozy and cared for. That part of me hasn't changed. But I started realizing there was a difference between creating a home I loved inviting people into and maintaining it so carefully that nobody felt like they were allowed to actually live in it.
In my heart of hearts, I don't want you to come into my house and worry about being the footprint I have to vacuum.
I don't want you wondering if you're allowed to move the pillow.
I don't want you holding onto your cup because you're afraid I'm going to swoop in and put it in the dishwasher.
Although—apparently we're still working on that one. We'll come back to that... 😂
I want you to swim in my pool and come inside with water dripping off your swimsuit.
I want us to cook together and absolutely destroy the kitchen.
I want you to curl up on my couch and make it look like someone sat there.
Because someone did.
Someone I love did.
And maybe the mess wasn't interrupting the memory. Sometimes the mess was evidence OF the memory.
The wet footprints meant somebody swam here.
The dishes meant we ate here.
The squished couch cushions meant somebody stayed awhile.
And eventually I'll clean all of it.
The pillows will get fluffed.
The floors will get vacuumed.
The kitchen will get reset.
But maybe not yet. Maybe I can wait until the living is finished.
And friends, this isn’t a podcast about pillows. I promise I’m going somewhere. I wish I could tell you this realization stayed neatly contained to my throw pillows and my obsessive need to tidy my house. It did not. Because eventually I started noticing that I could do this with experiences, too. Maybe you can hear yourself in some of these...
I could spend so much time thinking about how something should look...
how it should feel...
what everybody should do...
whether everybody was having a good time...
whether we got the perfect picture...
whether the food was just right...
whether the plan was going according to THE PLAN...
that I wasn't always fully available for the people who were actually living the experience with me.
And nowhere have I seen this tendency in myself more clearly than during the holidays. Because if there is ever a season where the capable ones among us can find ourselves running around behind everybody metaphorically fluffing pillows...it's the holidays. Suddenly there are a LOT more pillows to fluff.
There are gifts to buy and gifts to wrap.
There are meals to plan and groceries to get and dishes to make.
There are parties and school things and family things and travel plans and traditions.
There are stockings and Christmas cards and matching pajamas and teacher gifts and shipping deadlines and budgets.
There are pictures we want to take.
Memories we want to make.
People we don't want to disappoint.
And so much of it is beautiful.
That's the thing.
We want to do a lot of it.
We want to make the meal.
We want to find the gift that makes somebody's face light up.
We want to create traditions.
We want our homes to feel cozy.
We want our people to feel loved.
We want to make memories.
And if you're someone like me—someone who is capable, who notices things, who likes creating beautiful experiences for people—you might even be really freaking good at it.
But somewhere in the middle of all that creating...something can start to shift. It’s that inner voice that says:
Why am I the only one thinking about all of this?
Why does nobody else notice what needs to be done?
Why do I have to tell everyone what I need help with?
Why does Christmas feel like another freaking job?
And before you know it, you're counting down the days until it's over. Just make it through Christmas. Get to January.
And I've been thinking about that a lot. We carry so much around the holidays as women that it can cause us to resent or even dislike the season. But maybe some of us don't actually hate the holidays. Maybe we're exhausted by the role we've learned to play inside of them.
Maybe we've gotten so good at making the magic...that we're not actually getting to live inside of it.
And that's what I want to talk about today.
Not how to create the perfect stress-free holiday, because you already know I don't believe there is some magic potion where we listen to one podcast episode and suddenly we're healed women who never overfunction, never control anything and peacefully watch someone wrap a present completely wrong without taking the tape out of their hands.
No.
I want to talk about something I've had to practice for years—and am still practicing.
The difference between what we're creating...
what we're controlling...
and what we're carrying.
Just because you're the type of woman who is wildly capable doesn't mean you have to carry everything. And slowing down this holiday season doesn't mean you have to care less. That's something I've had to learn. Caring deeply and controlling tightly aren't the same thing. And for me, slowing down has looked a lot less like caring less and a lot more like loosening my grip enough that I can actually be PRESENT for the things—and the people—I care so much about.
WHY BEING THE CAPABLE ONE GETS SO HEAVY
We’re going to talk three things today — creating the experience, carrying the responsibility, and controlling the outcome — but before we get into that I think we need to talk about why being the capable one people count on (esp around the holidays) can all feel so freaking heavy in the first place.
The sneaky thing about being the capable one is that a lot of what you're doing...nobody can see. It’s invisible. Researchers call this cognitive labor and it helps us give language to something so many women experience, especially during seasons like the holidays.
Because there's the actual task, right? Buying the present. But then there's all the THINKING that happens before, during and after the task.
Researchers have broken this invisible work down into things like anticipating what needs to happen, figuring out the options, making the decision, and then monitoring whether it actually gets done.
So let's take something as simple as buying a Christmas gift.
The task might look like:
Buy Mom's present. Cool. One thing on the list. Except...
What does Mom want?
Did she mention something three months ago that I need to remember?
What's our budget?
Where can I find it?
Is it on sale?
Do I need to order it?
Will it arrive before Christmas?
Is it coming in a box that says what it is on the outside and I need to figure out how to hide that?
Where am I going to hide it?
Do we have wrapping paper?
Did I get a tag?
When am I going to wrap it?
Did I remember to actually PUT IT UNDER THE TREE?
Ya’ll. Are you feeling this?! The gift is one task. But there are so many invisible thought layers required to make that one task happen. And that's cognitive labor.
And when you're the person who naturally notices things—when you're the anticipator, the planner, the rememberer, the one who's always thinking three steps ahead—you can be carrying an enormous amount of work that nobody around you can actually SEE.
Which is why I think one of the deepest frustrations for the capable woman isn't always that nobody is helping her. I think it’s more like nobody is NOTICING her. And that’s a lonely place to sit in a time of year where we’re all supposed to be merry & bright, right?
Nobody notices while we're all eating dinner, I'm already thinking about dessert.
While we're opening presents, I'm thinking about the wrapping paper.
While we're at the Christmas party, I'm thinking about what we have to do tomorrow.
While everybody else seems to be experiencing the moment we're in...my brain is already managing the next one.
Maybe you too. Tell me I’m not the only one who feels the exhaustion from that?!
It's also why someone saying, “Just tell me what you need me to do,” doesn't always feel as helpful as they probably intend it to. Because now I have to figure out what needs to be done, decide what you can do, explain it to you, and possibly remember to check whether you did it.
There’s a difference between delegating a task and delegating ownership.
And I want to be really careful here, because I don’t want you to hear what I’m saying and immediately start blaming yourself for carrying too much. There are very real conversations to be had about how labor gets divided in our homes and families. Sometimes you really ARE carrying an unfair amount. But I also think there's another side of this conversation that we don't talk about as much.
What happens when we actually like being the capable one?! Ya know what I mean?
I love being the capable one.
I like being someone people can count on.
I like knowing what needs to happen.
I like being prepared.
I like creating beautiful things.
I like being thoughtful.
I like when someone needs something and I can say, “I've got it.”
Being capable is not something I want to get rid of and I’m not asking you to get rid of that part of you either.
It's one of the things I really like about myself and I’m sure you do, too, to some extent.
But I've also had to notice how easily I CAN do something turns into I SHOULD do that. And that can easily become I HAVE TO do it. And eventually, if we’re not careful, we find ourselves asking WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE DOING EVERYTHING?!
And that's where I have to lovingly call myself out. Because sometimes I can slip from being capable to overtaking it all:
Don't worry about it. I've got it.
I'll just do it.
It's easier if I handle it.
I already took care of it.
No, no, you're fine.
And then eventually wondered why everybody seems to think...I've got it. 😅 Do you see the irony?!
Again, this doesn't mean the people around us never need to step up. It doesn't mean that if you're carrying an unfair load, you somehow created that problem yourself. But I think if we're going to have an honest conversation about slowing down, we also have to be willing to ask:
Where am I participating in a pattern I'm also becoming resentful of?
Can we catch ourselves before that resentment sets in? Bc the resentment truly can be a poison to our relationships and the way we experience the holiday season. And I don’t want that for you.
Asking someone else to carry something means I have to let them actually carry it.
Not carry it while I supervise.
Not carry it exactly the way I would've carried it.
Not carry it while I remind them seventeen times.
Not carry it until I get uncomfortable and take it back.
What would happen if we simply just let them own it?
And friends, that can feel incredibly vulnerable when being the capable one has become part of who you are. Because when we pass things off the outcome feels uncertain, right?
What if they forget?
What if they do it differently?
What if it isn't as good?
What if someone is disappointed?
What if the thing I pictured doesn't happen the way I pictured it?
And this is where I think our need for control can quietly creep in. Control gets a bad rap but I want to point out that control gives us something very valueable to our brains. It gives us a sense of predictability.
If I do it, I know it'll get done.
If I cook it, I know how it'll taste.
If I wrap it, I know how it'll look.
If I plan the day, I know where everybody needs to be.
If I handle the details, maybe I can make sure nothing goes wrong.
And ya’ll. I GET IT. There is comfort in predictability. But there is also a limit to what we can actually control. Especially when other human beings are involved. Because people are not pillows. Am I right? 😂
I can fluff the pillow until it looks exactly the way I want it to look.
I cannot fluff another human being into having the experience I want them to have.
I can make Christmas dinner.
I cannot make everyone appreciate it.
I can create a tradition.
I cannot make everybody treasure it.
I can spend weeks finding the perfect gift.
I cannot manufacture the reaction when they open it.
I can invite my family into something I think will be really special.
I cannot guarantee that everybody will participate the way I pictured.
And this has been a BIG lesson for me:
Creating is an offering. Control is attachment to the outcome.
Creating says: I made this because I love you and genuinely wanted to. Control sounds like now I need you to experience it the way I intended. Oof. And THAT is where I've had to start paying attention.
Because I can create an environment for connection.
I can make the food.
Light the candles.
Buy the gifts.
Plan the thing.
Open my home.
Start the tradition.
Extend the invitation.
But I cannot control the experience.
That belongs to the people experiencing it.
And when I start trying to carry that part too—how everyone feels, whether they're grateful, whether they participate, whether they're disappointed, whether they think it's magical, whether this becomes the beautiful memory I pictured— I have picked up something that was never actually mine to carry.
CREATING, CONTROLLING & CARRYING
So this is where I've started trying to catch myself. And as I promised earlier, I want to talk thru three pieces of this that I think can help us do that this holiday season:
creating the experience, carrying the responsibility, AND controlling the outcome.
I don't want us to think of these as three perfectly separate buckets. Sometimes it can be all three.
Let's say you're hosting Christmas dinner. You might genuinely LOVE creating it. You love choosing the menu. You love setting the table. You love having everybody in your home. Feeding people is one of the ways you show love, and you look forward to this every year. Beautiful. That's creating.
But maybe you're also doing the grocery shopping, remembering what everybody eats, planning around allergies, cleaning the house, cooking every dish, setting the table, making sure there's enough ice, figuring out where everybody is sitting, remembering that somebody needs a high chair, making dessert, cleaning the kitchen and nobody else really owns any piece of it. Now you're carrying.
And then everybody arrives. Someone is forty-five minutes late. Someone asks, “Wait...you didn't make the cheesy potatoes this year?” And you're thinking, NO, DEBRA. I DIDN'T. DID YOU OFFER TO MAKE THEM?! 😂 You planned for everyone to eat at four, but now half the family wants to open presents first. Someone brought an appetizer you weren't expecting and now nobody's hungry for the meal you've been cooking for six hours. And suddenly you can feel yourself getting irritated bc you worked SO hard on this. And this isn't how it was supposed to go.
That's where we can start slipping from creating into controlling.
Nothing is wrong with having a plan.
You’re absolutely allowed to be annoyed that someone showed up an hour late.
I will validate that it hurts when you've put a tremendous amount of work into something and nobody seems to notice.
And even though those things are valid and true, I want you to remember that just because you created the experience, doesn’t mean it will happen the way you envisioned.
Unmet expectations can cause so much disappointment.
And I don't think the answer is to pretend we don't have expectations. We will. But we can start noticing how tightly we're holding onto them. Because just like that pillow, sometimes we have a picture in our heads of exactly how everything is supposed to look—and the humans around us are going to human, right?
So instead of putting all of our energy into making the picture happen, maybe we shift some of that awareness into asking: “What am I genuinely excited to create...and what have I simply become responsible for maintaining?”
Creating is the stuff we choose. It's the things that matter to us. The traditions we love. Something we're offering to the people we love because we WANT to.
This is where being the capable one can actually be such a gift.
You notice things.
You're thoughtful.
You know how to make people feel special.
You can take an ordinary Tuesday in December and make it feel like Christmas.
That's beautiful.
I don't want us to lose that. I don't want to become less thoughtful or less creative or less capable because I'm afraid of carrying too much. I just want to become more intentional about where I'm putting that capability. And I want the same for you this season.
So maybe the question isn't: How do I do less this season?
Maybe it's: What is my capacity this season?
Because I don't want to spend four hours making the perfect Christmas dinner and then be too tired, stressed and pissed off to sit down and eat it.
I don't want to spend weeks finding the perfect gifts and then spend Christmas morning following everyone around with a trash bag collecting the wrapping paper while they're opening them.
I don't want to work so hard creating the memory that I miss being in the memory.
So create. Please create. Make beautiful things. Do the traditions. Cook the meal. Wrap the gorgeous gift.
And then let yourself experience what you created without feeling the need to carry every single invisible detail or control every single outcome.
THIS IS A PRACTICE
And I want to remind you of something before we wrap up this conversation: this isn’t a magic-potion episode.
You’re not going to turn this off and suddenly stop trying to control things. You’re not going to immediately feel peaceful when somebody changes the plan. You’re not going to delegate something you’ve done for ten years and feel completely unbothered when they do it differently than you would. And the people around you may not immediately understand why you’re changing the way you’ve always done things either.
This is a practice.
And I think that practice starts with simply catching ourselves sooner.
When you notice yourself rushing around while everybody else is enjoying the thing…when you hear that little voice saying, Why am I the only one doing EVERYTHING?!…when your brain is already three steps ahead of the moment you’re actually in…or when you can feel yourself getting frustrated because something isn’t going the way you pictured it—catch yourself.
Come back to those three questions:
What am I creating? What am I carrying? What am I trying to control?
And then make a choice.
There’s one more question that has helped me tremendously with this over the years, especially when it comes to my family. When I can feel myself digging my heels in about something, I try to ask:
Is this actually a boundary I need to hold—or do I just really want to get my way?
Because those are not the same thing.
There are absolutely boundaries I need to hold, especially during a season that can already feel really full and overstimulating. I’ve learned there are things I genuinely need in order to stay well and enjoy the people I’m with. Those boundaries matter.
But then there are things like: What time are my brothers and I getting on Zoom? What order are we doing things in? Are we eating first or opening presents first? Is everybody following the version of the plan that made the most sense to me?
And sometimes I have to catch myself and go, Britt. This is not a boundary. You just want to be right. 😂 Or I just want everybody to do it my way. And is getting my way on this actually worth the stress I’m creating for myself—and possibly everybody else?
Usually? No.
So I’ve learned to:
Hold my boundaries firmly and my preferences loosely.
Let me say that again: Hold your boundaries firmly. Hold your preferences loosely.
Loosening your grip doesn’t mean abandoning what you genuinely need. It doesn’t mean allowing somebody to cross a boundary because you’re trying to be the easygoing one. It means learning the difference between something that actually matters to your well-being and something you simply have a preferred outcome for.
And friends, I have wasted enough energy in my life fighting battles that did not need to become battles.
Sometimes the Best Self Choice is holding the boundary. And sometimes the Best Self Choice is going, You know what? Fine. Open the presents first. 😂
I don’t need to be right. I don’t need to get my way. I don’t need everybody to agree with me. I can hold what matters firmly and hold the rest a little more loosely.
Maybe that means delegating something—and delegating the ownership, not just the task. Maybe you delete something because you realize you’re only doing it because you’ve always done it. Maybe you let someone be disappointed because their expectation doesn’t automatically have to become your responsibility. Maybe you let somebody do something differently than you would.
Maybe the Elf just sits on the freaking counter tonight. He had a long day. 😂
Maybe you don’t collect the wrapping paper while everybody is still opening presents. Maybe you don’t start cleaning the kitchen while everyone else is sitting around the table. Maybe you notice that your brain has already moved on to whatever needs to happen next and ask yourself:
What would allow me to actually be HERE right now?
Because slowing down doesn’t always mean doing less. Sometimes slowing down means staying where your feet are. It means finishing this moment before you start managing the next one.
There might be some resistance to that—from the people around you, from the patterns you’ve built and definitely from yourself. But resistance doesn’t necessarily mean you’re doing it wrong. Sometimes resistance is simply what it feels like when we’re practicing something new.
And friends, I have been practicing this for YEARS. I am much farther along than the version of me fluffing the pillow behind my friend in that tiny California apartment—and my mother-in-law still has to tell me not to put her cup in the dishwasher because she is STILL USING IT.
😂
So…growth. We’re doing great.
The goal isn’t that I never reach for the cup again. The goal is that I catch myself sooner. I notice what I’m doing. I laugh. I put the freaking cup back down—and I return to the person in front of me.
LET THERE BE EVIDENCE
And maybe that’s what I want to leave you with as we head into this holiday season.
At the beginning of this conversation, I told you about the pillow I couldn’t leave alone because it looked like someone had been sitting there. But now when I think about it, that’s exactly what I want.
I want my home to look like people I love were there.
I want there to be dishes in the sink because we ate together. I want wrapping paper all over the floor because somebody just opened something I was so excited to give them. I want wet footprints by the back door because somebody jumped in the pool. I want the couch cushions squished because we sat there way too long talking.
Eventually, I’ll clean it. I’ll wash the dishes. I’ll throw away the wrapping paper. I’ll vacuum the footprints. I’ll fluff the pillow.
But maybe not yet.
Because maybe the mess isn’t evidence that something needs my attention. Maybe it’s evidence that the thing I worked so hard to create is actually happening.
Someone sat here. Someone ate here. Someone laughed here. Someone opened something here.
Someone lived here.
And I don’t want to spend the entire holiday season following behind the people I love, cleaning up the evidence that we were making memories while somehow missing the memory myself.
So create the beautiful things. Make the meal. Buy the gift. Do the tradition. Light the candle. Make your home feel like Christmas. You don’t have to stop caring, and you don’t have to become less capable.
Just pay attention to what you’re creating, what you’re carrying, and what you’re trying to control.
And then…sit down.
Be with your people. Let the pillow stay squished for a little while. Let there be evidence that they were there.
And let there be evidence that you were there, too.
I love you so much. I’m forever and always rooting for you. And I will see you right here, next week, on The Self Care Sisterhood Podcast.
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