Letting Go on Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve has a different feel.

The noise quiets a bit.
The doing slows down.
There’s space between moments if you’re willing to notice it.

This is usually when the things we’ve been carrying all year make themselves known. Not loudly. Just enough to be felt. Old narratives. Unspoken expectations. Versions of ourselves we kept alive because they were once necessary.

Letting go doesn’t arrive with fireworks. It’s subtle. It’s noticing the story you’ve been telling yourself and deciding not to keep writing that chapter. It’s realizing some things don’t belong on the next page.

This is why I believe Christmas Eve matters.

It sits between what’s been and what’s coming. It’s one of the few times in the year where reflection doesn’t feel forced. Where honesty feels allowed. Where you can gently ask yourself what you don’t want to keep carrying forward.

Letting go doesn’t mean erasing the past. It means choosing what makes it into the future. Especially when it comes to the story you’re still living inside.

If this year stretched you, changed you, or clarified things you couldn’t quite name before, that matters. Clarity often shows up quietly before it ever turns into action.

I don’t think we need a perfect Christmas. I think we need an honest one.

So if you find yourself with a few quiet minutes tonight, here’s a question worth sitting with: what doesn’t belong in the next chapter of your life?

That question is often where a 10-Year Letter begins.

Merry Christmas Eve.

And if you feel a pull to write what’s next instead of drifting into it, that’s exactly what the 10-Year Letter process is for. When you’re ready to stop carrying the old story and author the one ahead, I’d love to walk that road with you.

— Craig