When the Most Wonderful Time of the Year Isn’t the Most Wonderful
Christmas has always been one of my favourite seasons. There’s just something about it. The soft glow of lights, the sparkle of decorations, the comfort of good food. It all fills me with a sense of wonder, almost to the point of believing in the magic of Christmas. I love this season, every little bit of it. But, as I’ve come to learn, there’s a flip side.
Each year, I, like many others, carry my struggles into the holidays. Mentally, physically, emotionally, they don’t just disappear because the world is covered in tinsel and glitter and a blanket of snow (if we’re lucky). If anything, the holidays seem to magnify them. There’s this strange ache that comes with loving the season so much while feeling the weight of your own battles and a deep, quiet loneliness.
It’s a hard feeling to describe. I enjoy the traditions, the food, the decorations, but underneath it all, there’s always this dull heaviness. Christmas shines a light on everything, the good and the bad. The warmth of the season is there, but so is the ache of what feels lost or missing, of what I wish could be different.
This year, though, feels a little different. As I reflect on the past twelve months, I’m struck by the mix of challenges and growth, struggles and victories. It’s been a year of discovery, creativity, and finding comfort in unexpected places.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned this year is that I have just as much right to take up space as anyone else. It’s a work in progress, but recognising my worth has helped me feel a bit more comfortable in my own skin. That realisation has been transformative, not only in how I view myself but also in how I approach the world around me.
This year has also solidified my identity as a poet. While I’ve always seen myself as a storyteller, I’ve discovered that poetry feels like home. It’s where I’m most comfortable and where I feel my voice truly shines. That doesn’t mean I’ll abandon my novels or short stories, but I’ve decided to lean into the poetic side of things more intentionally. Creating my poetry course was a highlight of my year, and I’m thrilled to be turning it into a journal that I hope to publish in the new year.
Of course, this year hasn’t been without its challenges. My body hasn’t always wanted to cooperate, and earlier this year, I was diagnosed with a mental health condition. It didn’t change everything, but it brought a sense of clarity and confirmed some things I’d long suspected.
On the physical side, I’ve found some relief, particularly with the help of a new dentist who’s finally addressed pain I’ve carried for years. While there’s still work to be done, the progress we’ve made has been a huge weight off my shoulders. My physical health remains a concern for 2025, but for now, I’m grateful for the steps forward.
I’m also incredibly thankful for the people in my life, both new friends and old ones. Some connections didn’t turn out to be what I hoped, but they taught me valuable lessons about boundaries and self-respect. Others have been a source of comfort, laughter, and strength, reminding me that I’m never truly alone.
Through it all, I’ve found joy in the small things, cosy evenings writing poetry, moments of unexpected laughter, and the quiet satisfaction of finishing projects. These little sparks of happiness have carried me through and made the challenges feel just a little lighter.
So, even though the holidays remain complicated and bittersweet, I’m holding onto gratitude. Gratitude for another year, for the seasons I love, and for the people and moments that have made the hard days more bearable. It’s okay to feel both the joy and the ache, to hold space for light and darkness.
This year has taught me that I’m stronger than I thought, and that even in the face of challenges, there’s room for hope. As I celebrate Christmas this year, I’ll reflect on growth, creativity, and the connections that keep me grounded. And if you’re reading this and feeling something similar, I want you to know you’re not alone. It’s okay to hold both joy and struggle in the same breath.
Wherever you are, I hope you find moments of peace and light, no matter how small. Here’s to the little sparks of hope that carry us forward, one Christmas, and one year, at a time.
Happy Holidays!!
Love,
Sofia
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