Christmas has a way of making everything feel louder.
The happy families look happier.
The empty chairs feel more empty.
The things you spend the rest of the year trying not to think about somehow show up beside the Christmas tree.
My father left when I was young.
Christmas always made that absence feel a little more obvious. You see movies about dads coming home, families sitting around the same table and everybody putting their problems aside for one perfect day.
That was never really my life. My mom drank, and alot of my childhood was spent watching her moods and trying to figure out which version of the day we were going to have.
Christmas didnt magically change that. Sometimes it just put decorations around the same problems.
I know my mom has her own pain. Addiction doesnt appear from nowhere, and I’ve spent years trying to understand that.
But understanding why somebody drinks doesnt erase what their drinking did to you.
You can love somebody and still be hurt by them.
You can miss the parent you needed, even when that person is still alive.
I’m trying to build something different now, but honestly, some years it still feels heavy.
I have a few good friends. Not a huge circle, but people I trust and that means more to me than having a room full of people who dont really know me.
And then there is Atlas.
Atlas is my four-year-old long-haired German Shepherd. His previous family couldnt keep him, so I adopted him when we were both looking for something that felt stable.
He was shy around new people at first. Once he trusted me though, he followed me everywhere.
He sleeps at the foot of my bed.
He sits nearby when I write.
He somehow always knows when I’m having a difficult day.
He doesnt ask me to explain why Christmas feels complicated. He doesnt tell me I should be happier or remind me that other people have it worse.
He just stays.
People say I rescued Atlas, but the truth is we probably rescued each other.
This year, Christmas might look like a few friends, something simple to eat and Atlas carrying that same worn-out tennis ball around like its the greatest present anybody has ever received.
It isnt the Christmas I saw in movies growing up.
But maybe thats okay.
I’m learning that family doesnt always mean the people you were born to.
Sometimes family is the friend who checks in when everybody else is busy.
Sometimes its the person who lets you sit quietly without demanding that you be cheerful.
Sometimes its a rescue dog sleeping beside you while the rest of the world celebrates.
If you are carrying extra weight this Christmas, I want you to know that you dont have to pretend it isnt there.
Maybe your family is complicated.
Maybe somebody you love is gone, or addiction has changed the people around your table.
Maybe you are surrounded by people and still feel completely alone.
Maybe you are simply exhausted from surviving another year.
You are not ruining Christmas by having feelings.
You dont owe anybody a happier version of yourself just because there are lights on the houses.
You can leave the gathering early.
You can ignore your phone for awhile.
You can protect your peace, even if other people dont understand it.
And if today doesnt feel joyful, it can just be another day you made it through.
That is enough.
“You are allowed to miss the family you never had.”
“You can love someone and still admit they hurt you.”
“Family can be something you slowly choose and build.”
“Making it through today is still something worth being proud of.”
However your Christmas looks this year, I hope there is at least one quiet moment where the weight feels a little lighter.
And if you’re spending it with a rescue dog who thinks you’re the whole world, give them an extra treat from me and Atlas.
Kelsey Rodgers
💜