Dear Santa,
I feel a bit silly writing this, because I am a fully grown adult and should probably have more sensible things to do than write to Santa.
But here I am.
The truth is, Christmas does not feel the same anymore. I am not looking forward to it in December
When I was little, it felt like the whole world changed. The lights looked brighter. The music felt exciting. Even the cold seemed magical. I remember staring at the tree as if it had been delivered from another planet, waiting for Christmas adverts on television, circling things in catalogues, and feeling like December had its own heartbeat.
Now, I just feel tired.
There are bills. Work. Family expectations. Food shopping. Messages to reply to. Presents to buy for people who say they “don’t want anything” but definitely do. Everyone else seems to be glowing, baking, decorating and making memories, while I’m just trying to remember where I put the wrapping paper from last year.
I want to feel festive. I really do.
But part of me wonders if Christmas magic is something you grow out of. Maybe it belongs to children, and adults are just here to pay for it, organise it, cook it, clear it up and pretend they’re having a wonderful time.
I miss the feeling.
I don’t need a big Christmas. I don’t need perfect decorations or expensive presents. I just want that tiny spark back. That little feeling that something warm and kind is still possible.
So I suppose my question is this:
How do you find Christmas again when you feel like you’ve lost it?
From,
A tired grown-up who still wants to believe
Dear tired grown-up,
First of all, come in from the cold. There is a chair by the fire, a blanket that has seen better decades, and a mug of something warm that may or may not have been stirred with a candy cane by an unsupervised elf.
You are not silly for writing. In fact, between you and me, adults often write the most important letters. Children ask for bicycles, dinosaurs, games consoles and occasionally something alarming involving slime. Adults tend to ask for quieter things: a little peace, a little hope, and a little feeling back. That matters.
You asked whether Christmas magic is something you grow out of. I do not think you do. I think what happens is that life piles itself on top of it. Bills land on it. Work sits on it. Grief leans against it. Stress throws a coat over it. Family expectations park a large and badly wrapped box in front of it.
The magic does not always disappear. Sometimes it is just buried under adult life.
And no, Christmas does not feel the same as it did when you were little. It probably cannot. Childhood Christmas had other people holding the weight. Someone else remembered the batteries, bought the sprouts, checked the timings, found the Sellotape and quietly made the whole thing happen while you watched the lights twinkle.
Now you may be one of the people carrying the invisible work. That can make Christmas feel less like magic and more like project management with tinsel.
So let us start there. You are not failing Christmas because you are tired. You are tired because you are human.
The way back to Christmas is not always through doing more. Sometimes it is through doing one small thing on purpose. Not the whole tree. One decoration. Not a perfect festive day out. One walk to see the lights. Not a magical December. One quiet evening with a film you used to love. Not a house that looks like a magazine. One corner that feels warm.
Christmas comes back in tiny sparks, not grand announcements.
Try this. Choose one small thing that is just for you. Not for guests. Not for social media. Not because it looks impressive. Not because it is what people are supposed to do.
Buy the ridiculous festive mug. Play the old Christmas song you secretly love. Put fairy lights somewhere unexpected. Watch a Christmas film under a blanket and do not apologise for it. Go outside after dark and look at the lights in people’s windows. Write down one Christmas memory you are grateful you had. Light a candle and let the room be still for five minutes.
That is how you begin. You do not force the magic back. You leave the door open for it.
And please remember this: Christmas is not only for people with perfect families, perfect homes, perfect budgets or perfect joy. Christmas is also for tired people, lonely people, people starting again, people missing someone, people who cannot afford much, and people who feel a bit flat but still hope something gentle might reach them.
You do not need to perform Christmas to deserve Christmas. You do not need to sparkle on command.
You are allowed to have a quiet Christmas. A small Christmas. A patched-together Christmas. A Christmas where the only miracle is that you were kind to yourself for once.
That still counts.
In fact, some of the best Christmases are not the grand ones. They are the ones where, for one small moment, your shoulders drop and you think, “This is enough.”
So no, dear grown-up, you have not lost Christmas. You have just been carrying a lot.
Start small. Let one little light back in.
The deer will take it from there.
With warmth,
Santa
