How you holding up, sis?
Somewhere between the group texts, the travel plans, the menu debates, the gift lists, and the unspoken expectations, the holidays can start to feel less like a season and more like a shift. And for a lot of us, the role we get cast into is familiar: the fixer, the glue, the planner, the peacekeeper, the one who makes it all happen.
That’s the cape.
I know the holidays have a way of sneaking up with cheer in one hand and a to-do list in the other. And I also know that cape has reappeared. Somehow while the family group chat was poppin’, the office potluck was being planned, the church program was being organized, teachers were sending communication about needed items for the school holiday party, and the general “so what are we doing this year?” the cape slid back across your shoulders and started to feel like holiday season skin.
It’s the superhero gear we wear each year. It looks like strength and competence, and “don’t worry, I got it.” But, Sis, being capable is a gift. Carrying everything isn’t required to be loved, to participate, to enjoy the season.
What we missed is that capes weren’t designed for holiday living. Not when joy is supposed to be on the menu. Not when rest is already rationed. Not when everybody’s feelings get louder and your body is already tired.
Sis, this is your reminder to join me in keeping the cape off for the holidays. A seasonal un-shouldering. A holy exhale. A focus on yourself in the middle of the noise.
May you remember you were never built to be the whole celebration.
May your boundaries be blessings, not betrayals.
May your “no” protect your nervous system like a good coat.
May the people who love you learn to carry what is theirs this year.
May you feel the air on your shoulders.
With love, in sisterhood,
Camille
Your fellow reformed cape wearer
The holidays are beautiful, yes. But they’re also a magnifying glass.
They enlarge family roles.
They amplify old grief.
They highlight who shows up, who doesn’t, and who gets voluntold to make it all work anyway.
And if you’ve been cast as the strong one, the reliable one, the one who “handles it”, the holiday season doesn’t invite you to rest. It recruits you.
Admittedly, we feel the pressure to:
Over time, the season starts costing more than it gives: the sleep you don’t get, the tension in your jaw, the headache that becomes your background music, the quiet resentment you swallow so everybody else can “have a good holiday.”
Keeping the cape off during the holidays isn’t quitting on your people. It’s refusing to abandon yourself to make everybody else comfortable.
Choosing presence over performance.
You don’t have to be the economy of joy for everyone else.
Letting “simple” be sacred.
A smaller celebration is still a celebration.
Sharing care instead of hoarding it.
Not because you stopped caring—because you started insisting care is communal.
Making space for your real emotions.
Even the ones that don’t match the playlist.
Giving yourself permission to be held.
Not just helpful. Not just strong. Held.
Showing up fully human.
Cape off. Shoulders down. Breath in your chest. Not in performance, but in presence.
practical tips: how to keep the cape off
1. Decide what you’re actually available for.
Before you RSVP to everything or volunteer for another task because you’re “good at it,” pause. Ask yourself:
Do I want to do this?
Do I have the capacity for this?
What do I need to feel okay while doing this?
Your availability isn’t just about time. Rather it’s about energy, grief, finances, mental health, and invisible labor no one sees. “I can’t this year” is a complete sentence.
2. Pause between ask and answer.
The reflex to say yes is muscle memory. Interrupt it.
The 24-Hour Rule: “Thanks for thinking of me. I need a day to check my capacity.”
The Holiday Budget Rule: “I can do one of those things, not all of them. Which one matters most to you?”
The Soft No: “I’m keeping this season light, so I’m not taking on extras.”
3. Let “good enough” be just that.
There’s a lot of pressure to make the holidays look a certain way. Pinterest-perfect, tradition-heavy, joy-overflowing, everybody-happy. But perfection is a thief. It steals your rest. It steals your money. It steals your ability to enjoy what you’re working so hard to create. If something is only “successful” when you’re exhausted at the end, it’s okay to redesign it.
4. Keep boundary scripts.
You don’t need new words every time. Save these. Reuse them.
You’re not being difficult, you’re being clear. And clarity is kindness, especially to yourself.
5. Notice the jobs you assigned yourself out of habit.
A lot of the cape is muscle memory. We don’t even realize we’re wearing it until we’re already in the air, saving the day. So check for autopilot moments:
Ask: “What happens if I don’t do this?” Sometimes the honest answer is: nothing terrible. Sometimes people step up. Sometimes things get a little messy. And that’s okay. Life is allowed to be a group project.
6. Make the invisible holiday labor visible.
List what you typically carry that nobody names. Put it in a shared note or group text. Then assign owners. This may look like:
7. Automate your “no”.
Create systems that protect you when you’re tired.
You don’t need one person to do everything. You need a few people to share the load.
Rest is not what you earn after you do everything. Rest is part of how you live. Rest is also resistance in a world that expects Black women to be endlessly available.
Pick one rest per day. Put it on your calendar with a verb:
Decide in advance how many big yeses you can afford during this season for work, family, church, school.
Maybe it’s two. Maybe it’s one. Maybe it’s none.
You must be fiscally responsible with your energy.
workplace moves that change the holiday math
family & faith spaces without martyrdom
if you pick the cape back up....
Perfection isn’t the goal. Recovery is.
Your body gets kinder: less tension, fewer headaches, more breath. Your relationships mature: people stretch into responsibilities you used to hoard. Your work sharpens: you do what’s truly yours better.
Your joy returns in small, honest ways: laughing without monitoring everybody, dancing while the mac and cheese bakes, sleeping through the night, saying no without a sermon.
And the world? It keeps spinning. The family still gathers and eats. The office still closes for the year. The ministry still goes on. The myth that everything breaks without you begins to break instead.
a gentle holiday mantra
“I can love people without carrying everything.”
“I can show up without saving the day.”
“I can be present without being in charge.”
Cape off doesn’t mean you don’t care.
It means you care about yourself, too.
a few tiny, real-life starts this week
Monday: Put a 20-minute “Do Nothing” block on your calendar. Guard it like payroll.
Tuesday: Send one boundary text: “I can’t host/lead/coordinate this year.”
Wednesday: Ask for help with a micro task you’ve always done alone.
Thursday: Delete one obligation only group chat or mute it for the season.
Friday: Cancel one thing and replace it with rest.
Saturday: Pick three “backup dinners” so you don’t overextend yourself in the kitchen.
Sunday: Read your “I choose” statements out loud. Let them be your benediction.
sis, you are not the holiday help desk
You are not the rechargeable battery for everyone else’s joy.
You are not a tradition machine.
You are a person. A beloved one.
And you deserve to make it through this season with your cape off and your heart intact.
If you find you need a bit of support to prioritize yourself, during the holidays or any time of year, reach out and find a therapist who understands where you're coming from. I am passionate about supporting my community at Lifeologie Counseling Midlothian, where I offer therapy as well as psychological testing, and also lead a team of professional therapists with a variety of clinical specialties. Reach out and connect with me today at (214) 530-2335 in Texas, or find a culturally competent counselor near you in our Lifeologie therapists directory.