The Holiday Plan That Protects Your Energy (Not Your Pinterest Image)

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Last week we talked about why the holidays leave us so depleted—we're asking our bodies for constant yang energy during a season that naturally asks for yin. We're running when we should be resting, and our systems are responding exactly the way you'd expect: with exhaustion, depletion, and that wired-but-tired feeling that makes December feel like survival mode.

Today I want to talk about something practical: how to actually plan your holidays in a way that works with your body instead of against it.

This isn't about becoming a minimalist who cancels all traditions (unless that's genuinely what you need, in which case, permission granted). This is about getting intentional about what stays and what goes, and learning to tell the difference between obligation and genuine joy.

The Question That Changes Everything

Before we dive into specific practices, I want to give you a single question that has transformed how I approach the holidays:

"Is this non-negotiable joy, or is this a should-do?"

Non-negotiable joy is something that genuinely lights you up, that you'd be sad to miss, that fills your cup instead of draining it. It might be a specific tradition, a particular gathering, a yearly ritual that means something real to your family.

Should-do is everything else. The things you do because you always have, because other people expect it, because it would be awkward not to, because you saw it on Instagram and felt guilty. Should-do might even be objectively good things—but they're not your things, not this year, not with the capacity you have.

Here's what I've learned: you can't do everything, even if everything is good. Dallin H. Oaks said it perfectly: "It is not enough that something is good. Other choices are better, and still others are best."

The holidays ask us to make these distinctions constantly, and most of us don't. We say yes to everything good, then wonder why we're depleted.

The Family Values Conversation

One of the most helpful things my husband and I started doing a few years ago is having a family values conversation well before the holiday season starts. It sounds formal, but it's really just asking: "What actually matters to us this year?"

Not what mattered last year. Not what matters to Pinterest or your neighbor or your mother-in-law. What matters to your family, this year, with the ages your kids are now, with the capacity you currently have.

We usually do this in late October or early November, sitting at the kitchen table after the kids are in bed. We make a list of everything we could possibly do—all the traditions, all the invitations, all the activities. Then we sort them.

Tier 1: Non-negotiable joy - Things we'd genuinely be sad to miss. For us, this includes: Connection with extended family (either through travel or video calls), driving around to look at lights, making gingerbread cookies as a family, and acting out the nativity.

That's it. Four things. Everything else is negotiable.

Tier 2: Nice if we have capacity - Things we enjoy but won't miss if we're running low on energy. For us this includes: seeing a holiday concert or performance, attending neighborhood parties, sending Christmas cards.

These get a yes if we're doing well. They get a gentle no if we're not.

Tier 3: We're done pretending we enjoy this - Things we've been doing out of obligation that actually drain us. I'm not going to list ours because they're personal, but I promise you have some of these. The traditions you inherited that don't fit your family. The gatherings that leave everyone depleted. The projects that cause more stress than joy.

Give yourself permission to let these go. They might be someone else's Tier 1. They're not yours, and that's okay.

A Resource That Changed How I Approach This:

When I first started questioning our holiday overwhelm, I found The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. While it's technically about decluttering physical stuff, her question "Does this spark joy?" completely transformed how I approach holiday commitments. If you're struggling to identify what actually matters versus what feels like obligation, this book provides a framework that translates beautifully to holiday planning.

What Yin-Protecting Holidays Actually Look Like

Once you've identified what actually matters, the next step is planning your season in a way that protects your yin—the restful, regenerative, quiet energy your body desperately needs in winter.

In Scandinavia, they've figured this out with the concept of hygge (HOO-gah). It's the art of coziness, of creating warmth and connection without requiring production or performance.

The song from Frozen: The Musical captures it beautifully:

"Hygge means comfortable, hygge means cozy, Hygge means sitting by the fire with your cheeks all rosy. Hygge means candlelight, hygge means easy, Hygge means all together playing, how you say? Parcheesi."

Notice what hygge is: comfortable, cozy, candlelight, easy, together.

Notice what it's not: impressive, Instagram-worthy, elaborate, exhausting, performative.

This is what winter actually asks for. This is what our bodies need during the darkest months. Not more activity, but more warmth. Not more events, but more connection. Not more doing, but more being.

Practical Ways to Build Yin Protection Into Your Season

Prioritize Stillness Over Activity

For every active event (party, concert, outing), schedule equal time for stillness. If you have a busy Saturday with multiple activities, Sunday is a stay-home day. No exceptions.

Your body can't regenerate unless you give it actual rest, and rest means more than just sleeping. It means unscheduled time, quiet activities, permission to do nothing.

Choose Warmth Over Cold

This sounds obvious, but notice how many holiday activities involve being cold: outdoor light displays, Christmas tree shopping, caroling, winter festivals.

I'm not saying never do these things, but be conscious about balancing them with warm activities: hot cocoa by the fire, baking together, reading in piles of blankets, warm baths before bed.

In Chinese medicine, cold depletes yang energy (our body's warmth and vitality). If you're going to spend energy being cold, make sure you're replenishing with warmth.

Protect Evening Time

The hours between dinner and bedtime are when yin naturally begins to dominate. This is when our bodies want to slow down, get quiet, prepare for rest.

If every evening in December is scheduled with events that require you to be "on," you're working directly against your body's natural rhythm.

Try to keep at least 3-4 evenings per week completely unscheduled. Home for dinner, relaxed evening routine, earlier bedtime. Let your nervous system actually downshift.

Say No Without Explanation

This is hard, especially if you're a people-pleaser (hi, it's me). But you don't owe anyone an explanation for declining invitations or reducing your participation in traditions.

"We're keeping things simple this year" is a complete sentence.

"That won't work for our family" is a complete sentence.

"We're going to pass, but thank you for thinking of us" is a complete sentence.

You don't need to justify your choices. Your energy is finite, and protecting it is not selfish—it's necessary.

When Your Kids Want All the Things

Most kids want to do everything. Every light display, every activity, every party invitation. They haven't yet learned that excitement has a cost, that overstimulation leads to dysregulation, that too much of even good things can tip into overwhelm.

This is where we as parents have to hold the boundary they can't hold yet.

One way to explain it is like this: "Our family has an energy bank account. Every activity costs some energy. We need to save enough energy for the things that matter most to us and for just being together at home."

Then we let them help choose. "We can do two special outings this week. Which two matter most to you?"

Giving them agency within boundaries helps them feel involved without allowing them to deplete everyone (including themselves).

The Gift of Less

Here's what I've discovered after experimenting with this: less is actually more satisfying.

When we do fewer things, we're more present for the things we do. When we're not exhausted, we actually enjoy the traditions instead of just surviving them. When there's space in the schedule, magic has room to happen spontaneously instead of needing to be orchestrated.

When we cut our usual activities by about half, we may worry our kids would feel disappointed, like we weren't doing enough to make Christmas special. Instead, they often report it’s their favorite Christmas ever. Because I wasn't frazzled. Because we had time to just be together. Because the things we did do, we actually enjoyed instead of rushing through to get to the next thing.

Your version of "enough" might look different than mine. But I promise you, it's probably less than you think.

What's Next

We've talked about why the holidays deplete us and how to plan in a way that protects our energy. In the next article, I'm going to get specific about how to support your body physically during busy weeks—the foods, herbs, and simple practices that help maintain your Qi when demands are high.

Because even with the best planning, December is still December. We still need tools to help our bodies handle the season.

Next in this series: Supporting your body physically through the holidays—including warm foods that build energy, simple herbs for resilience, and acupressure points you can use when you're running on fumes.