The Year I Took the Holidays Off

For nearly twenty years, I didn’t take the holidays off.

I worked through them quietly, intentionally, and often invisibly. From home. From my computer. Between family moments. Around the edges of life. Building, creating, supporting, and showing up in ways that mattered to me and to others.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t wrong. It was simply the season I was in.

Then, in mid-2025, something new entered my life. I began coaching gymnastics at the Maine Academy of Gymnastics. My days expanded in a different way. I was no longer only writing, creating, and leading from behind a screen. I was present in a gym, in motion, working directly with kids, energy, discipline, and joy.

It stretched me. It grounded me. It added a new rhythm to my life.

So when the gym closed for two weeks over the holidays, something unexpected happened. Instead of filling the space with other work, I followed the pause all the way through. I didn’t redirect my energy. I didn’t reshuffle my schedule. I didn’t “just check in.”

I stopped.

For the first time in almost two decades, I took the holidays off. Not partially. Not loosely. I actually rested.

And what surprised me most was not how unfamiliar it felt, but how right it felt.

This is a beautiful evolution moment. It reads as growth, not withdrawal.

It was alignment.

I didn’t stop because I was depleted. I stopped because I was listening.

Listening to my body. Listening to my energy. Listening to a quieter inner voice that said, You don’t need to push right now.

For years, my work has been deeply intertwined with my life. Writing books. Hosting conversations. Holding space. Creating meaning. Much of it happened from home while raising four sons, managing serious food allergies, and choosing a lifestyle that honored safety, family, and presence.

Work wasn’t something I left. It was something I integrated.

This pause wasn’t about escape. It was about completion.

Rest felt unfamiliar, and then it felt honest

At first, rest felt awkward.

I noticed the urge to check in. To see what was happening. To stay slightly tethered “just in case.” Old habits don’t disappear overnight.

But as the days passed, something softened.

Time slowed. My breath deepened. Moments stretched instead of rushed.

I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel behind. I felt here.

And that was new.

Taking time off didn’t take anything away

This was the part I didn’t fully expect.

Nothing collapsed. Nothing unraveled. Nothing urgent appeared to prove I was needed.

Instead, clarity showed up.

I realized how much of my life has been built on devotion, consistency, and care. And how much trust now exists because of that foundation.

Taking the holidays off was a reflection of stability.

It meant I had built something sustainable enough to breathe.

This season asked for presence, not productivity

There are times in life when creating is the work. And there are times when being is the work.

This holiday season wasn’t asking me to produce. It was asking me to receive.

To sit with my family. To enjoy quiet mornings. To let days be what they were without shaping them into something useful.

That, in itself, felt like growth.

A gentle permission slip

If you’ve never taken time off, or if the idea feels uncomfortable, I understand.

And if you love your work and feel called to it, that’s not something to fix.

But I learned this:

Rest doesn’t mean you love your work less. It means you trust yourself more.

For me, taking the holidays off wasn’t a break from purpose. It was a return to it.

And now, as the new year begins, I’m not rushing back. I’m re-entering gently. Gratefully. Whole.

Sometimes the most meaningful work we do is knowing when to pause.