There’s just…a lot going on at the moment. A house move. Changes in my work life that I wasn’t expecting. Our oven hob malfunctioned yesterday and is now not working, which really did feel like the straw that broke the camel’s back as we sat on our sofa, eating an emergency Domino’s pizza delivery and staring blankly at the TV. I’m just generally feeling quite unsettled and in need of a rest, but part of me also wants to stay busy, to feel like I’m moving the dial just a little bit every day. And as for Christmas…well, it’s usually my favourite time of the year, but I am yet to feel remotely festive. I just feel tired, and a bit down-beaten by it all.
The Sensible Sally in me knows that it will all be OK. We will find our rhythm with this house. Freelance work will come and it will go again. We’ll buy a new hob. Change is a part of life. And yet, I find myself struggling to come to terms with it all, stuck between the elation of finally owning our own home, and the mental load of everything that comes with it.
I think what I’m trying to say is that I need to let go of the idea of perfection. Life will never be perfect. There will always be something else. This Christmas might not look or feel as picture-perfect as I imagined it would, but maybe that’s how it was always meant to be. A little bit wonky, a tad unsteady on its feet, but kept upright by everyday moments of love and joy and contentment with what we have right now.
We’ll get there. We will all get there, whatever ‘there’ looks like for you.
And, hey, these are all lovely problems to have, in the grand scheme of things. Our house and all its quirks is still ours, and we are its custodians for a time. It’s a privilege of sorts to own a broken oven hob (OK, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, but it’s helpful in this particular moment of domestic despair). It’s definitely a privilege to have family nearby who we can lean on for a hot cooked meal if we ever needed it; to have each other to hold and console and say, “hey, it’s all going to be OK, I promise.” We are so very lucky.
I’m going to hold on to that as we wind our merry(ish) way towards the end of the year. We might not be getting our festive weekend in Lincoln that I planned months ago (cancelled because we now need a new oven hob 🙃), but we will have warmth and laughter and a fire in the hearth and twinkly lights everywhere and the people we love. We will have one too many drinks at the local pub and stumble our way home across pitch black country lanes. We will howl with laughter and find joy in the last mince pie or tiny square of brown bread slathered with cream cheese and topped with smoked salmon and dill. I will force James to watch The Holiday. All will be well.
How are you feeling as we come to the end of 2024? Are you feeling the pre-festive overwhelm? Please tell me I’m not alone in the comments! 👇
Holding on for dear life, is the perfect summary
I honestly feel like this time of year is just holding on for dear life until I can tap out at Christmas and gorge on mince pies.