The Sunday after Christmas
The Sunday After Christmas The Sunday after Christmas always feels different to me. The buildup is over. The noise has settled. The calendar loosens its grip just enough for everything I’ve been holding to finally show up in my body. I usually wake up slower that morning. Not because I’m lazy, but because my body seems to insist on it. Feet still sore. Back a little stiff. A kind of deep tired that doesn’t come from one bad night’s sleep - it comes from weeks of doing, managing, showing up. This Sunday doesn’t ask for productivity. It asks for honesty. When the adrenaline drops Christmas has a way of carrying us on adrenaline. Even the good parts require energy - the planning, the cooking, the driving, the emotions, the expectations. Once it’s over, that adrenaline drops. And when it does, the body finally gets a word in. That’s usually when I notice: How much my feet carried me How tense my shoulders still are How tired I feel underneath the relief The Sunday after Christmas...