on capacity
You don’t have to do it all. Not in December. Not in the new year. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
The other day I posted something about my seven-year-old melting my “Grinchy heart” then went on to write that it’s not that I don’t like the holidays. It’s just that they are a lot.
In the past couple of years I’ve recognized that I am someone who gets overstimulated very easily, and I’ve implemented practices that help me stay regulated — getting to bed at a decent hour so that I’m rested, not jam-packing my schedule back-to-back, cutting out alcohol completely (and coffees after lunchtime!), moving my body in some way every day (doesn’t always happen but I come close), and getting some alone time to pause and check in. Some of these are non-negotiable, others are more malleable. But either way, they tether me back to what matters.
And here’s the part I didn’t understand for a long time — when I tend to my capacity, I make room for magic.
Magic with my son — the moments I would otherwise rush past.
Magic with my community — presence, soulfulness and connection that actually lands.
Magic in the tiny, ordinary details — the light on the mountains, the quiet of early morning, coffee on the couch in front of the fireplace.
When I’m stretched thin, I miss all of that. When I’m resourced, I notice and respond much more.
So this December (and every month), I give myself a little permission slip: I don’t have to do it all. And neither do you.
