Christmas

Christmas arrives this year like a slow, aching melody, layered, textured, alive.

Not a song for the radio, a song for the chest, for the places that cracked open and learned how to breathe again.

For so many years, Christmas carried a weight. A deep, dragging gravity. I blamed the empty chairs, the missing faces, the names that no longer answered when called.

And yes, absence leaves a bruise. Silence has its own language.

But that was only the surface harmony.

Beneath it lived another truth... I was carrying a life that was never meant to be mine.

A life of signatures and structures, of logistics replacing longing. I was representing a paper, a title, a version of myself polished enough to survive but hollow enough to disappear inside.

I became fluent in pretending. I learned how to smile without being seen.

How to stand in a love life that never existed, waiting for a reflection that never came back to me.

And still... i wanted more.

That desire was the first note of rebellion. The moment the song began to change.

This year undressed me. Stripped me of rhythm, certainty, protection. It asked me to sit with myself without applause, without approval, without the safety of playing a role.

And there, in the quiet between heartbeats, i understood something fundamental, something sacred: the pillars of success, of peace, of fulfillment are not built outside of us.

They do not live in systems or relationships or promises made by others.

They live inside. They always did.

Everything begins with us. And everything, inevitably, returns to us.

There were nights soaked in tears, days that felt too heavy to carry forward.

Moments where my voice faltered where i leaned dangerously close to the edge of myself.

But then came the harmonies i never planned for.

People who showed up without scripts. Hands that held me when words failed. Souls who dried my tears, who wrapped me in presence instead of advice. People who saw me... not the role, not the paper, not the story: me.

And yesterday…yesterday the song softened.

Me and the kids, standing inside something new and tender. A family not built on perfection but on choice.

Not dressed in luxury but glowing with warmth.

No fancy dinner. No polished performance. Just open hearts. Unguarded smiles .A table set with sincerity and kindness.

And suddenly, Christmas didn’t ache. It shimmered.

My heart felt full... not because everything is resolved but because everything is honest.

Because my life now sounds like truth instead of obligation.

This Christmas is not about what I lost. It is about what I reclaimed.

My voice.

My desire.

My right to live from the inside out.

And this year, the song I carry is no longer heavy.

It is alive.