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Hey Subscriber First Name Christmas is just over a week away and I find myself reflecting on what this season has always meant to me. The marketers want us to believe in the hype of glitter, consumption and Hallmark moments. But for me it’s often carried a different texture - one of fractured families, grief and the pressure to perform. As a child of early divorce with a distant parent and complex family dynamics, Christmas was never simple. My mum did everything she could, pouring love into the season but those years planted seeds of people‑pleasing, hyper‑vigilance and the heavy responsibility of caring for others before myself. These were masks I wore to survive, coping strategies where I would tell myself to be strong, keep going and try to be happy like the ‘other’ families. When my mum died suddenly in October 1999, I was seventeen, bewildered, trying to figure out how to appear ‘normal’ but I had no idea how to even do the simple act of buying a Christmas tree. Each year after, I learned to mimic the rituals, to appear as though I was in the swing of things. But inside, the ache remained. When my son Henry was born and later Arlo, joy arrived hand‑in‑hand with responsibility. I watched Christmas movies often not for entertainment but as instruction manuals, trying to decode what people did at this time of year. The years blurred into cycles of distraction, overwork and collapse. I would push myself to exhaustion, only to spend the first days of the holiday sick in bed. My wife and kids joked about it but beneath the humour was the truth that my body was keeping the score. One December, the crescendo came. I flew to Romania to be responsible for producing a TV advert just days before Christmas. I had recently lost a close friend, sold my grandparents’ house to move them to Dorset and carried the weight of a disillusionment with my career. Outwardly I was resilient, delivering one of our most successful campaigns. Inwardly I was hollow, a husk of a man. My family saw it, even when I refused to. Resilience had become my currency of worth but it was counterfeit. My body knew the truth, this season is not meant for pushing harder, rushing faster or numbing ourselves with consumption. Nature is resting now, conserving energy for the brighter days ahead. Perhaps we should listen? Slowing down doesn’t mean shutting down. It means giving ourselves the space to see clearly, to act with wisdom instead of performance. In that space, better decisions emerge, ones that aren’t driven by fear or urgency but by clarity and purpose. Stop trying to perform, start being wise. This year, I’m trying to reclaim that rhythm and I filmed my first video, see what you think…
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