For years, I watched other people take the lead for holiday planning. Setting the table, organizing the games, planning the menu, and claiming the title of “The Holiday and Party Planning Person” in the family. It wasn’t said outright, but it was understood. Certain family members had a way of effortlessly stepping in and running the show, and I never questioned it. I was young when I had my first child. Just twenty years old. And even though I was someone’s mother, I didn’t feel like the matriarch type. Not yet, at least.

Every holiday, it was assumed that my little family would go over to someone’s house. Sometimes I would bring a dish, sometimes I wouldn’t. I would bring the kids and bring my smile, but never my voice or input. It felt easier to let family lead than having to plan my own thing or risk feeling like I didn’t measure up if I did. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I even knew how to create that kind of magic. So I watched and played my part. At first, I didn’t mind that much, but as I got older and had more children, I started to wonder how I could begin planning the holidays for my family.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder if I would ever feel confident enough to plan the holidays my way. Maybe it was insecurity disguised as ease. Maybe I was just growing up. I told myself I didn’t mind. I told myself they were better at it, that they actually enjoyed it, that I didn’t have the time or the talent, and I didn’t want to. But deep down, I discovered that I actually wanted to be the one to create those memories in my own home. Not just for me, but for my children.

Then something shifted. A break in a relationship I once relied on for the celebrations and get togethers forced a change in the holiday rhythm. This major falling out created distance with a particular family member and, in that distance, I found space I hadn’t had before. Without the usual invite and holiday plans, I had a decision to make. I could keep waiting for someone else to create the magic, or try doing it myself!

The first time I hosted was quiet and small. I didn’t have a grand theme, matching napkins, or a perfectly decorated table setting. I didn’t even know if the food would turn out right! I mean, I wasn’t used to making all of the traditional food and sides. But I took a stab at it. I played music, I made a menu that felt good to me, and I curated what was the beginning of my own family magic. My kids helped set the table, and when we all sat down to eat, I remember feeling something I hadn’t felt before during the holidays: satisfaction! This was “my little thing” and it felt good.

I eventually stopped measuring my holiday efforts against that of everyone else. I stopped trying to mimic what they did or what was expected. I started asking my kids to share what made the holidays feel special to them. Then, we created our own rituals. We made dollar store cake on birthdays, healthy versions of barbecue on the Fourth of July, and even made non-traditional food for Thanksgiving. (Don’t worry, we still had mac and cheese!)

I learned that my version of holiday magic didn’t have to be loud or elaborate. It didn’t have to be stylized. It just had to be real and warm and enjoyable for the people I love the most. Now, at thirty-nine, with four children and a deep sense of self, I take joy in planning holidays my way. I know how to make a home feel festive with love and intention, and the best part is it feels like me!

The good news? Holidays are no longer a performance or a comparison. They are simply a reflection of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. I used to think I wasn’t the holiday type. But it turns out, I just needed to give myself the chance to become her.