For many people, the holidays are supposed to be a time of rest, joy, and connection. And sometimes they are. But for many men, they also carry a quieter weight: Expectations, old dynamics, unresolved emotions, and a subtle pressure to “hold it together” while everything around them feels louder than usual.
Family gatherings have a way of pulling us backward in time. Roles we thought we had outgrown can reappear without warning. Old stories get replayed. Familiar triggers show up in new disguises. Suddenly, it’s easy to feel like the work we’ve done disappears the moment we sit at a dinner table or walk through a childhood door.
The invitation of this season isn’t to avoid those moments or to brace against them with more control. It’s to meet them with presence.
Presence doesn’t mean forcing yourself to feel grateful when you’re not, or pretending everything is fine. It means staying connected to yourself while the moment unfolds, without immediately reaching for armor, numbing, or reaction. It means noticing what’s happening inside you; the tightening in your chest, the urge to withdraw, the spark of irritation, and allowing it to exist without letting it drive the wheel.
So often, what makes the holidays feel overwhelming isn’t what’s happening externally, but the speed at which we abandon ourselves internally. We leave our breath. We leave our bodies. We leave our awareness. And once we’re gone, old patterns step in to take over.
Calm doesn’t come from controlling the environment. It comes from staying rooted while the environment does what it does.
There is a quiet strength in choosing to respond instead of react, in allowing a conversation to pass without needing to win it, in taking a pause before speaking, or in stepping away when you feel yourself crossing your own limits. These moments may seem small, but they are profound acts of self-leadership.
The holidays also remind us that growth isn’t about being permanently healed or perfectly regulated. Growth is about noticing sooner, returning faster, and treating ourselves with more honesty and compassion along the way. You may still feel frustration. You may still feel sadness. You may still feel the pull of old habits. None of that means you’re failing. It means you’re human.
And perhaps the most important reminder of all: you don’t need to be the strongest version of yourself this week. You don’t need to be the peacemaker, the provider, the entertainer, or the one who carries everyone else’s emotions. Sometimes strength looks like quiet presence, like letting things be imperfect, like choosing rest over explanation.
The holidays pass, as they always do. What stays with you is how you met yourself in the middle of them.
If you can stay connected to your breath, your body, and your values, even briefly, even imperfectly, you are doing the work. And that work doesn’t end with the year. It carries forward, shaping how you show up in every season that follows.
Take your time. Stay close to yourself.
That is more than enough.