Permission Granted to go “Off-Script”
Today I’m handing out holiday permission slips. Right here and now. (Not that you need one: you can write yourself a permission slip any damn time you want. But sometimes it’s easier if it comes from someone else). Modify as necessary.
Full permission granted to go completely off-script this holiday season.
Permission to skip the party.
Permission to attend the party and leave after 15 minutes.
Permission to stay the whole time and let your kid wear sweats and headphones and hide under a blanket with your phone.
Permission to leave your complicated kid at home with a sitter and take the rest of the family to an activity that you might all enjoy.
Permission to smile politely while people ask, "Where's your holiday spirit?" and think to yourself, "Oh, it's alive and well—it just doesn’t wear matching PJs or bake 10 dozen cookies anymore." or “yeah, byeeeeee”.
We all know the script. That unspoken “Holiday Performance” we’ve been handed by society (via Pinterest): joyful family gatherings, matching outfits, well-behaved children basking in the glow of candlelight and gratitude.
Except… real life is rarely that tidy.
Especially if you’re raising a complicated kid. Or if you're a complicated human who gets overwhelmed by loud music, scratchy clothes, overstimulating rooms, or awkward social small talk.
So why do we keep trying to follow a script that wasn’t written for us?
Probably because we think we’re supposed to. Because we think we’re failing if we don’t. Because somewhere along the way, we got the message that “doing it differently” meant we were doing it wrong.
Spoiler alert: that message is garbage.
Here’s the truth: your family’s needs are not up for public vote. You don’t have to explain why your kid is in sweatpants at the Hanukkah party. You don’t need to justify why you’re only staying for the first part of the holiday dinner before heading home for popcorn and a movie in your own safe, quiet space.
You are the keeper of your family's peace, and sometimes that means doing the weird thing that makes everything better (or just “less worse”).
I’ve coached a lot of parents through the holidays, and every single time we’ve peeled back the anxiety, the pressure, the tears—what we find is usually the same: a desperate desire to do right by our kids, and a fear of disappointing… someone. Family. Friends. Society. The ghost of Christmas Expectations Past.
But I will promise you this: your kids don’t need performative holidays. They need protective parents. Parents who see them. Who make choices for them, not about them.
Your job is not to make the holidays "magical" for everyone else. Your job is to find the ways in which the holidays are bearable and maybe even a little joyful for your family.
That might mean creating new traditions that no one else understands.
That might mean ordering Chinese food on Christmas and skipping the relatives' house entirely.
That might mean a meltdown in the minivan and calling it a night before the candles are even lit.
That might mean opting out of doing and leaning hard into being. Being together (or in whatever configuration of kids and adults is working right now), even if that "together" looks quieter, smaller, messier or louder than what you see on Instagram.
Try this:
Make a “Yes/No/Maybe” holiday plan. Sit down (with your partner or co-parent, if you have one) and list every event, invite, and expectation. Label each as YES (we want to do this), NO (we don’t), or MAYBE (only if everything aligns). Let this be your guide. Feel the guilt or FOMO and let them go. Permission granted.
Pick one weird thing you want to do this year, and do it. Bake lasagna on Christmas Eve. Walk the dog in matching costumes. Let your kid give gifts made of sticks and rocks. Start a tradition that feels like you, even if no one else gets it. Permission granted.
Here’s the truth: your kids are watching. And what they learn from you is:
That their needs matter.
That joy doesn’t have to match a template.
That boundaries are allowed, even on holidays.
That family is where you’re safe, not where you perform.
If this feels hard, that’s okay. You’re breaking a cycle. And that kind of work takes courage, not perfection.
And if you need a little help making peace with doing it differently, schedule a 1:1 coaching session with me. Sometimes a little shift in your “Life Kaleidoscope” is all you need for something beautiful to emerge.
This season, give yourself the gift of letting go of the script.
Permission Granted.
xo,
G