Is There Room for You This Christmas?
From organising the family celebrations to saying yes to just one more invitation, December can become surprisingly demanding. Cheshire-based coach Vicki Taylor-Wright explores how to make space for the people, traditions and moments that really matter.
By Vicki Taylor-Wright
It starts innocently enough. Someone suggests a Christmas lunch, a friend wants to get everyone together before Christmas, and there’s a request to help with a festive event. Then there are the presents, the food shopping, the family arrangements and all those little jobs that somehow become yours. Before you know it, December is booked solid and you’re wondering quite how that happened.
The strange thing is that you might not resent any of it. You love your family, like your friends and genuinely enjoy helping people. I know I do. Each individual yes makes sense at the time. It’s the sum total that leaves you with no room to breathe, and very little of the Christmas spirit you were hoping to enjoy.
I’ve certainly been there. I’m very good at quietly absorbing responsibility until one day I find myself wondering why absolutely everything seems to be my job.
The Christmas dinner iceberg
Take Christmas dinner. The lovely meal on the table is what everybody sees, and someone may quite reasonably say, “I would have cooked that.” They probably could. But cooking is only the visible bit. There’s deciding what to serve, remembering who doesn’t like sprouts, checking what’s in the cupboards, winning the annual scramble for an Ocado Christmas delivery slot and working out how everything will fit in the oven. And that’s before you’ve remembered the crackers.
In my coaching guide I call this the Dinner Iceberg. Above the water is the finished meal; below it is all the thinking, planning and remembering that made it possible. Sociologist Allison Daminger has described four aspects of this sort of household mental work: anticipating needs, identifying options, making decisions and monitoring what happens next. It helps explain why offering to do a job is not always the same as taking responsibility for it and why it can end up so exhausting. That’s a lot of thinking.
Christmas has a habit of magnifying that invisible work. If someone offers to take charge of a part of it, wonderful. But taking charge means seeing it through, not asking you six questions and leaving you as project manager. Sharing the mental load should involve sharing the thinking, too.
Of course, there’s another reason we keep agreeing to things. Saying no can feel surprisingly uncomfortable. We don’t want to disappoint people, seem ungrateful or miss out. Most of us value being included, and rightly so. Relationships matter. Christmas traditions matter. Sometimes the right answer really is yes, even when it’s inconvenient.
I’m not suggesting we all become Scrooge, refuse every invitation or abandon people who are depending on us. Nor does everybody have the same freedom to say no. Caring responsibilities, work demands and family circumstances are real. What I am suggesting is that we give our own time and energy the same fair consideration we would give somebody else’s. Not more. Not less.
A thoughtful yes is still a yes
One of the simplest things you can do is stop treating every invitation or request as though it needs an immediate answer. “Thank you for asking. Can I get back to you?” is a perfectly reasonable response. It gives you a moment to look at what you’ve already agreed to, rather than saying yes to avoid a few seconds of awkwardness.
Before deciding, try what I call the reasonable observer test. Imagine someone you care about had exactly your responsibilities, your diary and your limitations. Would you expect them to take on this one extra thing? What would you advise them, knowing the whole story? You might decide that an obligation really should be honoured. Equally, you might see that a smaller commitment would be fairer to everyone.
There’s often more choice than a flat yes or no. You could go to the drinks but leave after an hour, offer to bring a shop-bought pudding instead of making three desserts, or suggest meeting a friend in January when you can both enjoy it properly. If the calendar is already full, perhaps one existing commitment can be simplified or shared. I like the idea of pruning rather than abandoning: a little less, rather than nothing at all.
And if you do need to decline, I prefer a truthful answer to an elaborate excuse. “I’ve got a lot on and need a quieter weekend” is kind, clear and doesn’t leave you trying to remember a white lie when you next bump into someone in the supermarket. I’ve learned that a little discomfort at the point of saying no can save a surprising amount of discomfort later.
We should perhaps also extend this thoughtfulness and compassion to others when sending our own invitations. Give people options as to the time commitment, don’t press for an immediate answer and if someone cancels try (with gritted teeth if necessary) to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Take into consideration your own warning lights as Christmas gets closer. Perhaps you’re more irritable than usual, sleeping badly, forgetting things or feeling resentful about tasks you ordinarily enjoy. Those feelings can have all sorts of causes, of course, but they may be a reason to look at what you’re carrying rather than automatically taking on more.
You don’t have to overhaul Christmas, and you certainly don’t need another self-improvement project on your list. Perhaps your only change this year is to pause before the next yes. Or perhaps it’s to hand over one entire job, including the planning, without hovering over whoever takes it on.
I hope your Christmas is full of the people and traditions you genuinely care about. I also hope there’s a little room in it for you. The aim isn’t to become someone who always says no. It’s to become someone who knows when to say yes.
Vicki Taylor-Wright is a Cheshire-based coach and founder of Aligned North. This article draws on her guide I Said Yes. Again. Find out more at https://www.alignednorth.co.uk/store/p/i-said-yes-again