When the Year Loses Its Brakes

I swear the end of the year feels like riding in a mine cart downhill with no brakes.

One minute it’s August 25th. It’s too hot. The kids are feral, running on hot dogs and popsicles. And you’re thinking, maybe summer won’t end this year.

Then you blink, and it’s Halloween.

You blink again, and Black Friday is somehow next week.

Time goes into warp speed the moment that first leaf hits the ground.

Every year, without fail, I’m baffled by it. Like a true New Englander encountering the weather for the first time.

“It was 70 degrees on Tuesday. Now it’s 30. WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

(It’s called living in New England, Corey. It’s literally the same thing every year.)

Then the monstrous invention we call Daylight Savings arrives, the mine cart launches into the air, and suddenly we’re plunged into… what exactly?

The season that’s supposed to be calm

This time of year is supposed to be about slowing down. Reflecting. Noticing the small things. Eating good food. Feeling some measure of peace.

And yet, the cultural messaging sounds more like this:

SLOW DOWN AND ENJOY YOUR FAMILY RIGHT NOW AND DO IT WHILE YOU COMPLETE THESE 47 HOLIDAY TASKS AND DON’T FORGET TO BUY EVERYTHING ON SALE BEFORE MIDNIGHT AND ALSO MAKE CHILDHOOD MAGICAL AND ALSO DON’T SCREW IT UP OR YOUR KIDS WON’T VISIT YOU IN THE NURSING HOME.

It’s… a lot.

We’re supposed to savor the season while working harder than ever. Getting everything done “before the holidays.” Cooking for a small army. Cleaning for a slightly larger one.

Hosting. Traveling. Or somehow doing both. Coordinating schedules. Making lists. Checking them twice. All while the kids are home and nothing is actually getting done.

And then there are family dynamics. If you’re lucky, you just don’t like certain people. If you’re less lucky… well, you know.

The impossible standard

Somewhere along the way, our generation was sold the idea that childhood must be magical and Instagram-perfect at every turn.

Which sets us up for the annual tradition of feeling like we’re failing spectacularly.

Possibly even ruining our kids’ future therapy narratives.

“Tell me about your childhood.”

“Well… my parents didn’t do Elf on the Shelf.”

Add urgency, stir gently

And layered on top of all of this come the Black Friday messages.

Buy now. Act fast. Don’t miss out. Spend money to save money. Spend money you don’t have on things no one asked for. Do it quickly. Do it joyfully. Do it while basking in gratitude.

There’s no better recipe for cognitive dissonance.

Which is all to say: if you’re feeling confused, overwhelmed, rushed, guilty, numb, or allergic to any of this… you’re not alone.

I’m right there too.

And because I’m a human contradiction. Someone who hates urgency and is also genetically wired to slam on the brakes for a good deal. I’m going to spend the next few days writing about these paradoxes.

To name them. To soften them. To laugh at them. And maybe to offer something that actually helps.