This year is what I decided to call a year of Jingle Blues.
No children with me on Christmas Day. No crowded kitchen. No collective chaos. Just a quieter version. Different. Softer. A little heavier.
Last year was a year of Jingle Bells.
I had planned all year. Paris. Disney with my kids. Then the south of France, my parents’ home, no hotel, just family. It was full, loud, imperfect, joyful. I knew it might not happen again soon. So I stored away some love & warmth for when needed.
Jingle Bells or Jingle Blues?
You might be feeling one, or a bit of both this year.
And I realized many of us are feeling this way: happy, sad, or quietly melancholic.
So here is what I decided to do about it:
1- Stock up on happiness
I’m serious about this.
We all know, instinctively, when we’re living a good moment. With time, we also learn those moments aren’t permanent. So when they come, I fill my cup. I store them. I remember them on purpose.
Joy is something you can save.
2- Keep small rituals alive
On December 25th, I go into the water.
Last year in France, it was freezing. I did it with my family, my brother, his wife, my kids.
This year in Mexico, it’s easier. Warmer. Same ritual. Same meaning. A way to be here and there at the same time.
3- Manage expectations, don’t lower them
This one is subtle.
It’s not about expecting less from life. It’s about understanding that not every year delivers the same version of joy. Some years are expansive. Some are quiet. Wisdom is adjusting without bitterness, without pressure.
4- Practice gratitude, especially when it’s hard
My children are healthy and happy, spending Christmas with their father.
I am healthy. I will have a small Christmas with them in a few days.
And I see grief up close. My partner is living his first Christmas without his father. It puts everything back into perspective. We have a thousand problems, until health is the one that matters.
5- Being alone is not the same as being lonely
The holiday season carries a particular kind of melancholy for some of us. But melancholy is the echo of luck. Moments of happiness stored, then aged gracefully. It’s proof that something mattered, and still matters.
I like to think of it as a bank account of happiness.
When we feel that ache, it’s because we’ve lived richly. We’ve stored treasures. And sometimes we sit quietly and look at them.
So if this end of year doesn’t look like what you imagined, that’s okay.
If it feels soft, strange, sad, or quiet, that’s okay too.
You don’t have to force cheer. You don’t have to perform joy.
Some years are Jingle Bells.
Some years are Jingle Blues.
Some years are both.
This year, for me, it was a little more blue.
And still, I’m grateful.
Love, Anne.
