Why I Finally Stopped Hosting Christmas
When I finally stepped back, I saw the truth I’d been too tired to face:
our cherished tradition had been resting on one person’s unpaid, unacknowledged labor.
My home, my time, my money—quietly taken for granted under the banner of “that’s just how we do it.”
The moment I asked for help and was met with discomfort instead of support, the spell broke.
Canceling Christmas at my house felt, at first, like breaking something sacred.
But in the quiet that followed, I found something more honest.
I learned that real togetherness doesn’t vanish just because one person stops over-functioning.
If it does, it was never mutual to begin with.
This quieter Christmas, with its simple meal and unhurried peace, gave me back a piece of myself.
Sometimes the bravest gift you can give is the one you finally give to yourself: a boundary.
