Photo by Karola G

The tree is down. The decorations are packed away. The whirlwind of the holiday season has finally passed, and if you’re like most mothers, you might be feeling a particular kind of wrung out that goes deeper than just needing a good night’s sleep.

There’s this real push in January to move on, to flip the calendar and start fresh with new intentions. But before we rush forward, I want to invite you into something different: a pause. A moment to reflect on what just happened so we don’t miss the gold—the important information your body and your experience are trying to give you.

The Two Holidays We Experience

Here’s what I know to be true: our kids have one experience of the holidays. Our partners have one experience. And we—the mothers, the magic-makers—we have an entirely different experience happening behind the scenes.

While everyone else is enjoying the cozy moments, the special traditions, and the festive joy, many of us are caught in a current we never consciously chose. We’re managing the calendar, keeping the peace, carrying the emotional load, and somehow becoming the default for everything that needs to happen to create that magic.

And year after year, we find ourselves saying, “Next year will be different. I’m never doing this again.” But then 365 days later, here we are again, caught up in the same rapids.

The Reflection Questions That Change Everything

Before you can change anything, you need to see it clearly. I invite you to bring what I call your “mindful garden nest” online—that curious, compassionate, discerning part of you—and openly explore these questions:

What felt really light? When did you experience a softening in your body, time slowing down, genuine presence? Maybe it was reading quietly on the couch with your kids. Maybe it was a warm beverage in front of the tree. Maybe—and this is such important information—those moments only happened when you were alone. Or maybe there weren’t any at all.

What felt heavy? Where did you notice tension, contraction, resentment, or rushing? What felt performative or obligatory, like you were going through the motions even though you didn’t want to?

When did you feel most alive? Most like yourself? What was happening then, who were you with (or not with), and what were you doing (or not doing)?

What did you do out of expectation rather than true desire? I love tradition. But there’s a difference between traditions that nourish us and traditions that feel like a slog. Which is which for you?

What boundaries did you hold or wish you had held around time, energy, money, or labor—both the physical labor of gift-wrapping and cooking, and the emotional labor of managing everyone’s experience?

What are you clear you do NOT want to carry into next year? This is the one to write down, because you won’t magically remember it eleven months from now.

What felt meaningful enough that you want to repeat or deepen into it?

The Inherited Programming We Never Signed Up For

When I did this reflection myself, I noticed something: for me, the gift thing still feels heavy. I’m always cramming, always a little overwhelmed, definitely carrying some resentment with my partner around the whole process. I’m taking note of that.

But here’s what else I noticed: on the surface, not a lot has changed. There are still meltdowns. My husband got really sick. There’s still logistical chaos and mental load. But I am different. I’m relating to it all differently.

And that’s because this work—the work of mothering ourselves mindfully, of doing nervous system work—has helped me see clearly what many of us miss: the holidays don’t just reveal busyness. They reveal patterns of over-functioning that are rooted in inherited programming.

This is the mother matrix—the cultural, societal, and generational wiring that tells us we need to do it right, do it to the nth degree, do it like our friend or our mother is doing it. We’re trying to carry everyone else’s experience when no one is actually asking us to do that. There’s an element of performance we’re not even aware of, inherited ways of being that we literally never signed up for.

The cost? Depletion. Resentment. Feeling invisible. Loss of self. And here’s one that really gets me: research shows that when women are overwhelmed and in burnout cycles, we don’t form memories well. This is why so many mothers feel like we’ve blacked out entire years of our children’s early lives.

Why Awareness Isn’t Enough

You can reflect on these questions. You can journal about them. You can have clear insights about what needs to change. And that’s valuable—awareness is where we start.

But here’s the truth that connects to last week’s episode on insight versus MOMsight: reflection without embodied integration is just setting yourself up to be in the same patterns next year, only more aware of them. “Here I go again,” you’ll say, frustrated that you knew this would happen but didn’t do anything to change it.

We can’t think our way into change 99% of the time. The patterns don’t live in your logical, cognitive mind. They live deeper—in your nervous system, in your body. The guilt about resting, the resentment when no one helps, the feeling that everything must be done right now—these aren’t personal failings. They’re survival strategies. Inherited survival strategies shaped by what you’ve inherited from generations of women before you.

The Doorway Forward

If you’re feeling whiplash or wrung out from the holidays right now, you’re not alone. And there’s a real opportunity here. This exhaustion, this resentment, this depletion—it’s actually a doorway. An invitation.

You can choose to walk through it. You can decide that this is your moment to unsubscribe from the programming that keeps you caught in these cycles. Not just trim the weeds of overwhelm, but pull them at the root so they don’t grow back.

The awareness from these reflection questions is essential. But the transformation happens when you bring that awareness into your body, into the nervous system where the patterns actually live. That’s where lasting change becomes possible.

So yes, reflect. Journal. Get clear on what worked and what didn’t. But then take the next step. Because the sooner you do this deeper work, the more present you’ll be in your life, the more memories you’ll actually have of the beautiful moments with your kids.

You deserve that presence. You deserve to experience the holidays—and all of life—as yourself, not as someone caught in inherited patterns you never chose.

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Ready to go deeper? Join me for UNSUBSCRIBE on January 28th, a 90-minute embodiment experience where we’ll release inherited patterns at the root. Learn more here.