My First Regulated Christmas
It’s the start of Christmas week and it’s also leg day. I, however, woke up feeling sick. I barely got any sleep and could feel just how badly my body needed rest and replenishment. I only had one commitment, but it wasn’t until the afternoon and it was online so it didn’t require too much of me — thankfully, because I didn’t have much to give to begin with.
That one commitment I had was rescheduled till after the New Year and I realized that I was officially off for the holidays. At least until the second half of the week, but for all intents and purposes, I was still off. No classes to teach. No 1:1 sessions to coach. There was nothing on my schedule and it felt good.
Until I realized that this is the longest I’ve gone in a while with no sessions at all. With no work at all. No backend. No paperwork. No planning. No scheduling. Nothing whatsoever. I get to take a proper holiday break, not just from actually doing work, but from thinking about and planning for work.
And then I had a sudden realization. It hit me like a ton of bricks that this is the first regulated Christmas since moving. This is my first holiday break with a regulated nervous system.
The first Christmas here, I was still just visiting, with no clear path ahead. Away from family and friends. Hiding from the world in my own little bubble. In and out of depressive episodes.
My second Christmas here, I had just gotten my work permit approved and as exciting as that was, I was consumed with nerves about what would happen next. Adding pressure on myself to rush ahead. I had so much catching up to do because I was at a disadvantage in the market. So much was possible, but that was terrifying because I didn’t know what that meant. As so, urgency had the better of me.
Fast forward to Christmas 2025 and Christmas feels safe. I feel at home. I’m building a fulfilling life. I’m surrounding myself with genuine, crazy, passionate, wonderful people. My people.
I feel as though I’m cutting through all the noise. Dredging through all that muddy water. And finding my way back to me. To the real me. Not the people pleaser me. Not the me I thought I should be. But the me that’s been buried under rubble gasping for air all this time. The me that’s spent so many years in survival mode. In a psychological and emotional hellhole. Baptism by fire, as my dad loves to call it.
I’m learning to love and accept the parts of me that I’ve been too afraid to face. I’m learning to love and accept the parts of me I didn’t even know were there. Because it feels safe to do so. Because it finally feels like I can let my guard down and just be.
This Christmas is the first time I feel at home, after leaving home behind.
The enormity of this realization is just…wow.
It feels like a tremendous (I hate using this word because it’s been overdone) blessing. I truly feel grateful. It feels magical. My little “I made it” moment.
If I hadn’t woken up sick, I probably would’ve missed this realization. I probably would’ve buried it beneath a pile of to-do lists, with my eyes focused on the path ahead. Instead, being in the moment, too tired to do anything but too awake to be able to fall asleep, may have been what primed my mind to clearly see this moment for what it really is. To allow me to look back at how far I’ve come. At how all that time, will, energy, effort, blood, sweat, and tears, compounded to right here and right now.
Once again…wow. My “I made it” moment.
