A Christmas Reminder
Something happened to me this holiday season. Something that’s never happened before.
My bank account dipped into the negatives.
Trust me when I say, I don’t share this to receive pity and I definitely don’t share this to receive charity. I share this because it’s an experience that expanded me into a perspective I wouldn’t trade for any amount of money or possessions.
While I knew this drop in my bank balance was temporary, I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t feel mightily uncomfortable. Between all the unpredictability due to Covid and an unsteady last two years of work, finances have not been the most reliable thing. I know so many who can relate.
When I saw this negative number, I felt myself sinking into unworthiness and doubt. This would be the first Christmas I was unable to buy my loved ones presents. I felt frustrated. Despite the amount of hours I’d been working, this was the first time I truly felt I simply did not have enough. I noted how this translated into feeling like I was not enough.
To combat this discomfort, I felt two very different parts of myself pulling at my sleeve, begging to take centerstage. The avoidant part of myself wanted to run far away, shove her head under the covers, forget all about it, and act like everything was just fine. The perfectionist Type A part of myself, clipboard in hand, was all business. She instantly wanted to rush into finding a solution, fix the issue, obtain more somehow, and make it all okay. No matter which part I entertained, the perceived lack left me feeling exposed and vulnerable.
But, I didn’t run. I didn’t hide. I didn’t try to fix.
Instead, I did something different. I sat with it. With all of it. I sat with the feeling of lack; the feeling of unworthiness; the fear and doubt. I acknowledged the stories and beliefs that were rearing their ugly, but honest, heads. I simply leaned into the discomfort, just a little, and instead of trying to push it away or make it all better, I got curious.
What was this teaching me?
And then, something miraculous happened.
The more I sat with the discomfort, I began to remember.
I remembered that money will come and go my whole life. I will make it, spend it, save it, lose it, gain it, and so on, as we all will. It’s a fluid cycle. It’s an important part of our world, yes, but is it truly what matters? Did I really want to give all of my power away to something outside of myself, admit defeat, and spend the holidays moping about?
I chose my answer. It was “no”.
The more I remembered this, the more I remembered something else; something that has been there all along, but simply needed some dusting off in the crowded corners of my mind.
I remembered that regardless of what my bank account reflects, I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by people who will love and support me no matter what. What a gift and incredible privilege that is. Not everyone can say the same.
I remembered how immensely blessed I am to have a safe, warm home in a beautiful part of the world.
I remembered how grateful I am to live in a country that, while not perfect, is a place I can step outside and feel safe. I can voice my opinions without punishment. I can walk three feet to my sink and get clean water from my tap.
I am warm, safe, loved, and have the freedom to be myself.
I have more than millions of people across the globe and, though comparison should never discredit personal hardship, it opened my eyes to what was true.
My heart began to fill with gratitude and the things that matter most flooded through me; my relationships, my experiences, and simply being me. Being a good, kind, true person.
I remembered that as long as I do that, I will be okay. And so I am, and will always be, okay.
At this point, I began to feel quite liberated. I knew I had to see that negative number and realize that I’m still here, breathing. Life is still moving forward. The sky did not come crashing down. It was a humbling moment to remember some perspective. My problems are small in the grand scheme of this great, big universe and no matter what, life goes on. And perhaps what I think are problems, could actually be blessings in disguise. It’s at this moment that I could feel how much good, how much magic, was yet to come.
I decided it was time to get creative and resourceful. While I knew I couldn’t buy everyone I love a physical Christmas gift, there were some things I could do. I could write them heartfelt cards. I could call them and have a loving, present conversation. I could spend time with them. And at the end of the day, this connection is what matters most to me.
This experience has not brought me stress or despair; it has brought me hope. My wish is that it brings you hope as well. There is always something to be grateful for. I am grateful for the reminder that nothing is more powerful than love. Our people need us and we need them. Cherish each other deeply. How often is it that we forget to tell each other how much we mean to one another? How busy have our lives become that we forget what a gift it is to sit down together, phones on silent, and have a real conversation?
It’s that human connection, our own little communities we’ve cultivated, that makes this crazy, wild ride all worth it. To know we’re not in this alone is far different than to feel it in our bones.
So, remind someone what this feels like. Let it be simple. Sometimes a smile at a stranger or a few kind words to the grumpy cashier is all it takes to remind someone else that we’re in this together.
If there’s one gift I’d love to give this holiday season, it isn’t another item. We have so much stuff already.
The gift I’d love to give is something I’ll always be capable of sharing, no matter any other circumstance: the gift of connection. The reminder to anyone and everyone, loved ones and strangers alike, that we’re not alone. We need each other, and we have each other if we are simply willing to open our eyes, our minds, and our hearts.
We don’t need more things; we need more connection.
So, let’s create it. Together.
All my love and gratitude,
Montoya Miller
