Years ago, the Christmas spirit came to me in the unlikeliest of places—during a near street brawl on a freezing December night in Chicago. I had spent the day wandering the city, shopping bags knocking against my shins, my neck stiff from marveling at the Art Deco architecture towering above me. Everywhere I looked, the city sparkled in its holiday best: evergreen boughs draped in gold and crimson, shop windows glowing, the air itself shimmering as if infused with carols.
As the wind sliced in from Lake Michigan, I tucked my coat tighter and crossed a busy intersection, surrounded by fast-moving locals. In an instant, a taxi ran the red light, barreling through the crowd. Voices erupted. Bodies lurched. When the chaos finally sharpened into focus, a man stepped forward and spit—shockingly accurately—onto the cab’s window, sparking a furious, chaotic scramble in the middle of the street.
As I walked on, my adrenaline began to fade. The glittering lights now felt too sharp. The music sounded thin. The faces around me appeared rushed and distant. Even the gifts I carried felt heavier. I realized that in the busyness of the season—shopping, rushing, checking off lists—I had lost the meaning of it. I had been chasing the appearance of Christmas, not its presence.
But as I rounded the corner to my hotel, the Christmas spirit found me again.
She sat in a wheelchair between a drugstore and a McDonald’s, wrapped in a neat blue wool coat with a rhinestone brooch pinned proudly at the collar. Her music stand, overflowing with carols, trembled in the winter wind. When she began to sing, her trained, luminous soprano floated above the city noise like something fragile and sacred. “Silent Night” shimmered through the cold air.
Her voice was exquisite, but it wasn’t the song that moved me.
It was her face.
Amid the traffic, the crowds, and the biting wind, she radiated serenity. Grace existed in her expression—not because the world around her was peaceful, but because she carried peace within her. In that moment, the weight in my arms lifted. Something in me softened.
And there, around the corner from chaos, I rediscovered the Christmas spirit.
Coping With Holiday Stress and Emotional Overload
The holidays often magnify stress, grief, loneliness, and emotional exhaustion. Many people come to therapy this time of year feeling overwhelmed by expectations—family expectations, social expectations, and internal expectations of how they should feel.
Moments like the one I experienced remind us that meaning often appears when we slow down, notice, and let ourselves breathe. Counseling helps people reconnect to themselves when the season feels heavy or complicated.
6 Practical Ways to Care for Your Mental Health During the Holidays
Allow yourself to feel what you feel.
There is no “correct” holiday emotion. Honesty is grounding.
Create one moment of intentional stillness each day.
A quiet car ride, a slow breath, a pause before responding—simple shifts matter.
Reevaluate your holiday expectations.
Ask:
What burden am I carrying that I don’t need to carry alone?
What truly matters to me this year?
What can I release?
Let small things be meaningful.
A song. A memory. A warm drink. An unexpected kindness.
Peace is often humble.
Seek connection where connection is possible.
It may look different each year.
It’s okay if it’s not picture-perfect.
Consider talking with a therapist during difficult seasons.
Therapy provides support for holiday overwhelm, grief, anxiety, and relationship stress.
Finding the Christmas Spirit Within
The Christmas spirit isn’t something we chase.
It’s something we slow down enough to notice.
Therapy can help you reconnect with presence, grounding, and meaning—especially when the world feels chaotic or loud.
Serving Dripping Springs, Driftwood, Oak Hill, Wimberley, and other Texas hill country communities.
(512) 695-1660
Leslie Tourish LPC 
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