The Week Before Christmas Is Absolute Bollocks

On Tuesday, I popped into Tesco at what I thought was a sensible time. 4.30pm. Early doors. In and out. Milk, bread, something vaguely green to make me feel better about the mince pies.

Absolute carnage.

Trolleys abandoned like crashed cars. Someone arguing with a self-checkout machine as if it had personally betrayed them. A bloke clutching 6 bags of sprouts like they were limited edition trainers. Everyone sweating. Everyone rushing.

Everyone convinced they were the only one who had left it too late.

And that is the week before Christmas in a nutshell.

Thing is, none of this is new. It happens every year. Every. Single. One. We still act surprised though, like Christmas has sneaked up unexpectedly rather than arriving on the same date it has for our entire lives. Yet we pile on more work, more socials, more spending, more pressure, all whilst saying we’ll “slow down after Christmas”.

Fair play. That always goes well.

I used to be brilliant at this. Saying yes to everything. Trying to wrap the year up at full speed. Cramming in extra calls, extra sessions, extra favours. All whilst running on poor sleep and whatever chocolate happened to be nearest.

By the time Christmas Day arrived, I was knackered and quietly irritated, which is not the warm festive glow promised by the adverts.

Here’s the uncomfortable bit. The madness is mostly self-inflicted.

We treat the final 2 weeks of December like an endurance test. As if burning ourselves out is a requirement. But burnout doesn’t care that it’s Christmas. It still turns up. Usually wearing a novelty jumper.

What actually helps isn’t grand plans or pretending you’ll rest properly in January. It’s a few dull, sensible decisions made early and stuck to when it would be easier not to.

One of them is deciding what genuinely matters. Not what you think should matter. A small number of conversations. A few pieces of work done properly. Time with people you actually want to be around. Everything else is noise. And noise is exhausting.

Another is putting a fence around your energy. Earlier finishes. Fewer late nights. Saying no without a long-winded explanation to soften the blow. You don’t need to attend every event, reply instantly to every message, or solve everyone’s problems before the 25th. The world will survive.

And the last one is deliberately slowing the pace. Walking instead of rushing. Eating without multitasking. Finishing 1 thing before starting the next. It sounds almost laughably simple, which is probably why we dismiss it, but steady beats frantic every time. Especially this week.

I’m not saying avoid the madness entirely. Christmas is meant to be a bit chaotic. That’s part of the deal. But there’s a difference between joyful chaos and running yourself into the ground for the sake of it.

This week doesn’t need more effort. It needs a bit of restraint.

And possibly going to Tesco at 9am instead.

Take Care
GB