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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…

This was a small experiment in using a tool I built to lock certain apps as a way of resisting the lure of distraction. It felt surprisingly fun to make and might be the beginning of more videos. (Let me know if you’d like a card!).

I’m hoping that by sharing my lived experience, we can see that when our nervous system is triggered, our decision‑making narrows. We default to survival strategies of rushing, over‑performing and clinging to distraction rather than choosing wisely. If I was acting from a grounded nervous system, I never would’ve travelled to Romania and maybe I wouldn’t have burned out. The short term desire to perform, led to a long term period of recovery.

So as many of us close out the business year, planning, rushing and sealing deals, perhaps the most productive thing we could do is pause?

And one of the best ways to pause is to step away from the hustle of everyday life. I’m part of two events this week as tonight I’ll be speaking at Patch about phone addiction and how our devices keep us busy but disconnected. And on Thursday, it’ll be time for ‘The Wintering’, our third event in The Natural Network wheel at Four Acre Farm. Planned around the ancient festival of Yule and honouring the Winter Solstice and preparing for the slow return of the light.

Because light always follows dark and we need both to appreciate the change. Like the notes of a piano, the high and the low are not in competition they are parts of the same song. Without them all, there is no music.

Events & gatherings

January will see the launch of a new format of our monthly events at Patch. Me and the wonderful Karley Woodford have been planning something super cool and meaningful so watch this space. But until then, I’m part of two events this week to keep us connected…

The Wintering: Event 3 in The Natural Network series

18th December. 3.30-5.30 at Four Acre Farm. Tickets here

In a change to our regular half day gathering, we’re mixing things up for December. We’re shifting to the afternoon to allow us to welcome the dark. If you’ve been thinking of joining one of these gatherings then this could be the perfect time. And as a newsletter subscriber, don’t forget your £10 discount code of Naturalnetwork10. You’ll experience:

• A fireside circle for grounding and reflection

• Winter cake, warmth and real conversation

• Space to listen to yourself, to nature and to the season

• Gentle facilitation to bring clarity for what’s next

All is Calm, Unless You're On Instagram!

16th December. 6-8 pm at Patch. Tickets here

A conscious conversation about tech, comparison and reclaiming your calm this Christmas.

The festive season is sold to us as a time of joy, connection and warmth - but for many, it’s also a time of overwhelm, comparison and digital distraction.

So as the solstice approaches and the wheel turns, I’m reminded that every season carries both shadow and light.

My story is just one thread in the wider tapestry of human experience, but perhaps yours has its own echoes. And maybe it might be helpful to ask:

'“What patterns do you notice in yourself at this time of year? What rhythms might you reclaim if you slowed down long enough to listen?”

I hope this hasn’t felt too self-indulgent. I really appreciate you being another TrimTab trying to find our way, one tiny adjustment at a time.

With peace, love and hope,

Nick

Well that’s it for another week. But we don’t have to stop there.

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