Landing Not Finishing

Something happens around this time of year.
Our bodies start asking to slow down, to rest, to exhale, to soften,
but the world does the opposite.
Everything speeds up, and somehow we end up matching it.

That quiet hum of pressure creeps in, to finish, to tidy, to tie it all up neatly.
Not just Christmas.
The whole year.

Finish the work.
Clear the inbox.
Close the loops.
Make it magical.
Make it meaningful.
End on a high.

It’s like we think the year itself needs to be tied up with a bow.
But maybe it doesn’t.
Maybe there’s a gentler way to end it. One that doesn’t ask us to sprint right up to the finish line.

You know the vibe.
Clearing the inbox to zero, even though it’ll fill up again tomorrow.
Ticking off the last few work tasks, because leaving something unfinished feels like bad manners.
Booking the dentist, the haircut, the MOT, future-you admin that somehow counts as progress.
Returning library books.
Dropping off donations.
Sorting drawers, clearing emails, wiping slates.

And then there’s Christmas layered on top,
remembering which wrapping paper you used for each child so “Santa” isn’t exposed,
checking if the recycling collection still happens on Boxing Day,
keeping mental track of who still needs a present,
cutting off price tags,
making sure everyone’s gifts are roughly even.

All the quiet, invisible things that make December feel just a little bit more full on.
The small, steady work of care that no one really sees, but everyone depends on.

When we asked women in the Honest Wellness Index who carries most of the planning and emotional load in their household, 73 percent said me.

One woman said, “My husband cooks, thank goodness, but everything else, the menu, the cleaning, the helping, it’s all on me.”
Another said, “He takes what he can off me, but he can switch off. I can’t. My brain never stops.”
Someone else said, “Totally me carrying it all. And it’s the same for most women I know.”
And for some, it’s about more than logistics: “Since my mum died, I feel responsible for keeping traditions alive for my sisters and dad, even though I have my own family now.”

It’s not just about getting things done, it’s about holding the year together.
It’s care and love and a bit of emotional choreography.

Somehow, the job of finishing the year properly still ends up with us.
Atl least that's what I'm seeing around me and what we heard in the HWI.

But maybe this year doesn’t need to end perfectly.
Maybe it just needs to end gently.

When I think back to the years that felt good, it wasn’t because everything was finished.
It was because something inside me finally let go.

The magic isn’t in completing everything, it’s in giving yourself permission to stop chasing the clean ending.
To let the year trail off a bit, and trust that it’s enough.

So this year, I’m trying to be more intentional.
To loosen my grip now, before December really kicks in.
To decide what I’ll keep and what I’ll quietly put down.

Keeping the bits that feel like connection.
Letting go of the bits that just feel like control.
Skipping the one event no one actually wants to go to.
Letting people help, even if they do it badly.
Leaving some things undone and calling that peace, not failure.

Because no one remembers the coordinated wrapping paper or the perfectly worded sign-off email.
They remember how it felt to end the year together.
To land softly.
To laugh mid-chaos.
To find a tiny pocket of calm and call it joy.

That’s the Christmas I want more of this year.

If you’re ready to switch off the autopilot, join us in Choosing Joy,
our not-too-serious postbox for anyone done with perfect endings.

Write your own little Dear Santa note.
Keep what matters.
Let go of what doesn’t.

That’s it. No rules, no guilt. Just joy, the low-effort kind.

Kim