Holiday Traditions

We all have those memories from holidays gone by, but among many for me was Doreen’s (aka Mom’s) infamous green Jello “salad.”

How one can describe artificially flavored green gelatin—combined with cottage cheese, canned pineapple, marshmallows, and walnuts—as “salad,” I will never know.

And yet, there it was. Front and center. A staple on our holiday table year after year. Sometimes she got creative with a fancy mold, but those experiments usually collapsed in spectacular fashion, so she eventually stuck with the glass casserole dish and tossed a few extra marshmallows on top like a little ta-dah.

When I started creating my own holiday traditions, I went big—perhaps a little too big. I wanted to “do it right,” as if that proved something about my worth as a mother, a wife, a hostess… a woman who had it all together.

Lights everywhere. Wreaths with plaid bows in every dormer. Garlands on the banister. The perfect tree. Perfectly wrapped gifts. Perfect everything.

Overbooked. Overscheduled. Overdone.

After my divorce, everything changed. That first year, the kids and I floundered, a little orphan-like, still trying to keep up but also knowing deep down the tide was impossible to swim against. It became clear—old traditions needed to sunset so something new could take root.

So we created our own. PJs, champagne, popcorn, and movies all day long.

Our pact was simple: we did whatever we wanted, and if anyone wanted to see us, they could come to us. It was heavenly.

We slept in. Made decadent hot chocolate with candy canes and shaved chocolate. Cooked a yummy breakfast. Opened gifts together. Toasted the day with a little bubbly (yes—even my son). Then curled up for our favorite holiday classics.

Pure bliss for someone like me who had spent years trying to make everything appear perfect just to feel loved and valued.

Saying “no” at first was uncomfortable. But eventually, it became our normal. And it finally felt like I was doing something right—for me and my kids.

This time of year can be filled with joy, but if you’re going through a major life transition—a divorce, a loss, or simply feeling unanchored—longstanding traditions can start to feel heavy and unnecessary. Sometimes the heaviness is the message… permission to do things differently.

Create a new tradition. Do something just for you. In the end, no one gets extra points for doing it all. Love is not earned, and your value isn’t tied to how things look from the outside. People will judge you—that’s what people do. As Mel Robbins says, “Let them.”

The green Jello salad sat on the table every year, but no one said I had to eat it.

So this holiday season, give yourself and others a big, generous helping of compassion. Celebrate in ways that feel nourishing rather than obligatory. Choose joy where you can. Let the rest fall away.

And maybe—just maybe—this is the year you start your own tradition.
One that feels like home to who you are now, not who you once were.

Love & Light,
Michèle