The Christmas Fairy’s Curse
Every December, many of us are involuntarily cast as the Christmas Fairy. It’s a role that feels both magical and oppressive, full of glittering promise yet weighed down by thankless effort. You’re the one who orchestrates the tree, the gifts, the meals, the joy. It’s your quiet labor that keeps the season alight for others. And yet, there’s a part of you that seethes.
Because let’s be honest: nobody really notices the fairy. Sure, they admire the tree you trimmed and marvel at the feast you sweated over. But they don’t see you. The unseen hours. The endless decision-making. The Herculean effort of holding together the thin fabric of holiday cheer while everyone else simply consumes it.
You tell yourself this is what love looks like—selfless, generous, unseen. But love’s shadow is resentment, and you can feel it creeping in. You resent the expectation that you should carry the emotional weight of everyone else’s joy. You resent how easily the spirit of Christmas collapses into a performance of perfection: the perfect meal, the perfect gift, the perfect day. You resent that nobody pauses to ask, “Are you okay? Are you tired? Are you happy?”
This quiet bitterness can turn us into the female Grinch—the one who doesn’t just resent Christmas but resents what it demands of us. The smiling self-sacrifice. The unspoken rules about who plans, who organizes, who cares the most. And what’s worse? You resent yourself for resenting it. Isn’t Christmas supposed to be about giving? Shouldn’t this make you feel good?
But here’s the truth: no fairy can work her magic on an empty tank. If you’re feeling frayed, bitter, or unseen, it’s because you’ve become a casualty of Christmas idealism. This myth that joy requires perfection, that love is invisible effort, and that rest is indulgence.
So how do we survive Christmas when it feels more like a burden than a blessing?
We start by letting go of the fantasy. A perfect Christmas is a lie we tell ourselves to avoid discomfort. Joy can survive the burnt cookies. Love isn’t diminished by simpler gifts. And people, if they love you, will understand when you set limits.
Carve out small islands of peace in the storm. Say no when it’s too much. Take a walk. Sit quietly by the tree for five minutes before everyone wakes up. Do something—anything—that reminds you Christmas doesn’t have to be earned through sacrifice.
The Christmas Fairy deserves to enjoy the magic too.