Ah, the holidays. That magical time when you’re supposed to deck the halls, bake cookies that would make Martha Stewart weep, and magically transform your house into a cozy snow globe of cheer. Except, if you’re like me, the holidays also mean wrangling your ADHD brain, managing perimenopause mood swings (hot flashes and holiday lights? Too much sparkle!), and trying not to let anxiety ruin what’s left of your sanity.
Now throw in a teenager with a passport, and boom—instant panic casserole.
See, my youngest son is traveling to the States to meet a friend he knows online. Because apparently, we live in an era where “Stranger Danger” now comes with Wi-Fi. Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good kid, and I trust him. Mostly. But the mom-brain in me is spiraling: What if his phone dies? What if his “friend” turns out to be a 47-year-old man named Chad? What if he forgets to pack clean socks? Meanwhile, my ADHD brain has jumped ahead 12 steps and is already envisioning me driving across state lines in a panic, with holiday garland still hanging off my car because I forgot to finish decorating.
Speaking of decorating, this is where I’m supposed to wax poetic about how trimming the tree brings the family together. But honestly, decorating while you’re anxious is like trying to thread a needle in an earthquake. Every ornament feels like it’s mocking me. That snowman figurine? “Wow, you’re barely holding it together, huh?” The holiday wreath? “Better fluff me properly, or we’re gonna have a problem.” And the lights? Oh, the lights are the worst—they’re either tangled or working harder than I am, blinking so fast they give me anxiety just looking at them.
The holidays are supposed to feel joyful, but right now they feel more like a to-do list that’s on fire. And yet, somewhere in the chaos, I keep reminding myself it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to not have it all together. My house doesn’t have to look like a Pinterest board. My son doesn’t need me spiraling into a ball of stress before he boards that plane. And I don’t need to have all the answers right this second.
So today, I’m giving myself permission to breathe. To hang that one wreath a little crooked. To put on some holiday music that makes me laugh instead of cry (shout out to “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”). And maybe, just maybe, to let my son go on his big adventure without micromanaging his every move.
Because at the end of the day, the holidays aren’t about perfection—they’re about connection. Even if that connection comes with tangled lights, slightly burnt cookies, and a mom who’s just trying her best.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out if we own any wrapping paper that doesn’t scream “2017 clearance sale.”
Stay calm and string those lights,
A Very Flustered Mom
