It’s Almost Over, and That Matters

I haven’t written here in a few weeks.

Not because I didn’t have things to say, but because sometimes, when life gets loud, the words retreat. And for those of us who feel everything deeply, the holiday season can be… a lot.

There’s an unspoken expectation that this time of year should sparkle. That it should be joyful, warm, full of bows and glitter and perfectly timed togetherness. And while that may be true for some people, it isn’t true for everyone.

For many of us, the holidays are overwhelming.

Too much noise.
Too many expectations.
Too many emotional landmines dressed up as traditions.

And if you’re neurodivergent, especially autistic, that overwhelm can stack quickly. What looks like “festive chaos” to others can feel like a constant state of bracing yourself. Every gathering, every conversation, every obligation asking more of you than you have to give.

This year hit hard for me.

Not in one dramatic way, but in a thousand small ones. Family dynamics. Emotional history. The pressure to show up “correctly.” The weight of knowing that for some people, this season reopens old wounds instead of wrapping them up.

I won’t overshare. But I will say this: if you found this season exhausting, you are not weak. You are not broken. You are not failing at some universal happiness test.

You’re human.

And maybe you’re tired.

Not Everyone Has a Hallmark Experience

There’s something quietly isolating about struggling during a season that insists you should be smiling.

When everyone else is posting highlight reels, it can feel like you’re the only one sitting on the couch, staring into a cup of coffee, trying to regulate your nervous system.

You’re not.

There are a lot of us out here holding it together quietly. Getting through dinners. Managing emotions. Navigating relationships that are complicated, layered, or painful. Doing our best to survive a season that asks for cheer when what we really need is rest.

And that’s okay.

You don’t owe anyone sparkle.

If You’re Still Standing, That Counts

If all you did this season was get through it, that counts.

If you showed up imperfectly, that counts.

If you needed distance, quiet, boundaries, or space, that counts.

There is no prize for pretending things don’t hurt. There is no moral superiority in pushing through when your body and mind are asking you to slow down.

Sometimes resilience looks like rest.
Sometimes strength looks like saying “enough.”
Sometimes success is simply making it to the other side.

And here we are.

Almost there.

A Gentle Reminder, From Me to You

The year is winding down. The noise will soften. The expectations will loosen their grip. The calendar will turn, whether we feel ready or not.

And you don’t have to emerge from this season transformed, healed, or triumphant.

You can just… emerge.

Take a breath.
Drink the coffee while it’s still warm.
Let your shoulders drop a little.

If this season was hard for you, I see you.
If you needed more time than others, I understand.
If you’re still carrying things quietly, you’re not alone.

I’m here with you, no glitter, no bows, no preaching.
Just a shared moment of honesty.

It will be okay.
Not perfect.
But okay.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

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