How I Managed to Make Amends After Breaking Many Holiday Promises This Year

I didn’t put up our Christmas tree yesterday. I promised myself and the kids that I would.

I didn’t hang the lights outside on the house before the snow came either.

The record player that I swore I would fix this year remains, for one more year, in a layer of dust. Bing Crosby won't sing festively in our home like I planned. 

There are no gingerbread cookies baking in our oven. No mulled wine simmering on our stove top.

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I couldn’t get past the piles of laundry that were beginning to take on the silhouette of a Christmas tree. (Maybe I should string some lights around it, top it with an angel and call it a day?)

I promised myself to keep cool this Christmas. But despite my meditation practice, I didn’t stay in the present moment or witness my thoughts. I did, however, witness my kids’ behaviour and needless to say: I lost it.

Amidst the juggle and the intensity of parenting, something has to give. So, I broke the one thing that keeps me grounded: my fitness routine.

Broken Promises

Earlier this year, I made a pact with myself to take my unwell brother out to lunch more often. But I've dropped the ball on that, too. I also keep letting our regular "girls’ night out" slide.

This holiday season, I am breaking all kinds of promises. No surprise to me, I am running low on Christmas spirit.

All over the internet at this time of the year, I read articles with titles like “Top Ten Self-Care Strategies for the Holiday Season.”

After a deep dive, all the advice leaves me feeling worn out. The actionable lists exhaust my own neverending to-do lists. Plus, all those recommended strategies? I am already attempting to do them. I am sleeping, eating healthy, meditating, breathing and practicing gratitude.

And so the solo parenting and lonely Christmas train has made its way into the station. Albeit slowly and fully loaded.

Understanding Self-Care

Self-care is the simplest not-at-all simple thing. I don’t need a list of things to do to care of myself.

All I need is one thing: forgiveness.

Because, I've learned that self-care is forgiveness. And more specifically, it's self-forgiveness.

When I can forgive myself for unmet promises and all the personal contracts that I willingly, or unwillingly break, then I feel like I'm activating true self-care. 

From the broken sacred contracts that mean so much to me, like being gentle and patient with my children, to the more pragmatic promises like when to decorate the tree — at the end of the day, through forgiveness I get to make amends with myself. I get to start over. 

So with my record player in shambles, I have turned to my tape deck to record my own Christmas carol based on the promises I've broken. 

The first verse: "I didn’t put up the tree yesterday."

This is not solely my responsibility, so I chose to teach my tween sons a lesson. Christmas is a family event and if we are going to have a beautiful tree, we all have to do the heavy lifting.

The second verse: "I didn’t hang the lights on the house before the snow came."

Not every holiday has to be the same. Just because lights were in a specific place before, doesn’t mean they have to be in that place forever. Instead, I used our time to take my two sons to back-to-back parties, which created lasting memories.

The third verse: "I didn’t fix my record player this year."

I learned Christmas carols on my guitar instead. And this year, my family and I will go carolling at a palliative centre where my mother spent her last days battling cancer.

The fourth verse: "There were no gingerbread cookies baking in the oven. No mulled wine on the stove top."

Traditions change. I chose to make a quick apple crumble and slow cook a stew.

The fifth verse: "I didn’t fold the three loads of laundry."

Folded or not, I have three loads of clean laundry!

The sixth verse: "I promised myself I would keep my cool this Christmas and not lose it."

My sons witnessed their mom in a vulnerable moment and experienced the power of a heartfelt apology.

The seventh verse: "I let my meditation practice slide this month."

I remembered to breathe and find mindful moments where I could — we can’t always get everything done. Sometimes there is too much to do, and we need to take stock of our small victories.

The eighth verse: "I broke my promise to move my body."

I decided to listen to what my body needs. And it needed rest, so I napped and went to bed early. 

The ninth verse: "I broke my promise to my brother."

I called my brother to apologize and re-scheduled lunch dates.

The tenth verse: "I didn’t go on our ladies’ night outing."

I figured out a way. After the kids went to bed, I invited my girlfriends over and we sipped wine by the fireplace.

Unsurprisingly, we were all feeling a bit overwhelmed. So I played them my Christmas carol and we all joined in and forgave.