Every December, without fail, I’m reminded of the moment, when I realised just how deeply I’d fallen into the annual festive trap of trying to please everyone.
And I mean, everyone.
It was 2018, and I was standing in a supermarket, stocking up on fancy tins of Christmas biscuits for my kids’ teachers and assistants at school. I didn’t know what they liked or whether they even liked biscuits. But there I was, spending nearly £80 on biscuits!
It was then, when I was walking back to the car with bags of shopping, that the moment stuck with me. Not because of how painfully uncomfortable it was carrying loads of bags, but because I finally properly questioned how much pressure we quietly shoulder at this time of year.
Women and mothers, in particular, fall into the role of what I call Chief Emotional Gift Administrator, remembering dates, buying for teachers, colleagues, neighbours and the dog walker. I was spending at least £25 per item, resulting in a good £400-500 each year.
We make sure nobody feels forgotten, even if it comes at the cost of ignoring our own mental and financial limits.
From the workplace Secret Santa, with a £10 limit, but you must ensure it doesn’t look cheap and end up going over.
So, off we go to buy something vaguely festive and ultimately useless, to the friendship circles who ‘always do gifts!’, there is never ending spending and overspending.
And you must ensure the neighbourhood collections for the postman, the milkman, the bin men and the rest. Somewhere along the line, gifting stopped feeling magical and started feeling like a laborious load of admin.
At my busiest point I was being asked to contribute to over twenty groups, and the financial worry, fatigue, and pressure were mounting up. But the thought of saying no felt completely out of bounds.
You start to question whether you’re being selfish or letting others down. But the truth is we’ve been conditioned to put ourselves last.
My turning point came one winter when I realised I was genuinely feeling anxious about Christmas. Not the food or the family chaos or the glitter explosion across the house ( I actually love all of that, especially as my birthday is on Christmas Eve).
It was the spending. The chipping in. The pressured performative generosity, that was making me anxious. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at yet another group message asking for a ‘small contribution of £15’ and really reflected on why I was doing it and who for.
Winter is my favourite time of the year, but it wasn’t joyful anymore.
Christmas should feel like magic, not forced financial obligation.
What is your approach to Christmas gifting?
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I enjoy buying gifts for everyone and don't mind the costs.
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I try to keep it simple and meaningful with less focus on spending.
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I prefer acts of service or handmade gifts.
So I did something radical – I set boundaries.
I started with straightforward messages explaining that I was keeping things simple and wouldn’t be joining group gifts, and wished them a lovely Christmas.
I asked the teachers what they’d actually like or need for Christmas, and ended up giving them a small voucher for the supermarket so they could treat themselves to something they genuinely wanted.
Most of the time, people responded beautifully. A lot of them even said they wished they could do the same.
Occasionally someone would send back a slightly chilly ‘No worries’, but that’s okay. Boundaries aren’t about universal applause, they’re about protecting your finances and sanity.
I never engaged in those conversations. I protected my peace and energy.
And this enabled me to make room for something far more meaningful. Some of the most appreciated things I’ve given over the years cost next to nothing.
I’ve swapped skills, offered acts of service, shared home baked treats and every single one has landed better than a rushed last minute unsentimental purchase ever did.
It’s important to remember that Christmas is not just a season of giving, it’s also a season of slowing down. Of hibernating and letting things be imperfect.
We don’t need to be the organiser, shopper, wrapper, memory maker, and the emotional support elf.
If there’s one message to take from this, it’s that you are allowed to set limits without owing an explanation. Instead, find the magic in the small things: the quiet mornings, twinkly lights, board games, the walks and the naps.
It’s worth so much more than getting into debt and being overwhelmed just to please others.
The next time I see a newly designed, and overpriced, tin of Christmas biscuits, at the supermarket, I will be walking away.
The real magic comes from choosing peace over pressure, enjoying the moment rather than chasing perfection from obligation.
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