Inspired by a beautiful reflection from Catherine Avery https://www.catherineavery.com/blog/ADHDholiday2025

Hope doesn’t always announce itself with big, bold energy. Sometimes, hope arrives 

In her recent post, Catherine Avery shared how this season looks different for her. While the world is speeding up, she’s choosing to move more slowly. After the loss of her mother-in-law and a wave of unexpected emotions resurfacing at the ADHD Conference, she realized something many of us forget: grief doesn’t care about the calendar.

Instead of pushing into “holiday mode,” Catherine is letting her season be simpler, softer, and more spacious. And there’s so much hope in that choice.

Because hope isn’t just about believing things will get better—hope is also what gives us permission to do things differently right now. To simplify. To honor what we’re carrying. To celebrate in ways that feel true rather than expected.

I recently had to move my mom to a place where she can get more support. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but I hadn’t planned for this to happen before the holidays either. I’ll still be able to spend Christmas with her and other family members, but it’s not going to be the same.

That’s okay even with a bit of nostalgia for Christmas’ past. The Buddhist saying about attachment being the source of suffering comes to mind. Thinking that the holidays have to be celebrated in a specific way or adhering to traditions that don’t fit anymore, it’s the nudge that it’s time to reevaluate.  

Hope invites us to choose calm over chaos, presence over pressure, being over doing.

If this season feels tender for you, let hope remind you: you’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to shift. You’re allowed to let this holiday look different.

And sometimes, that gentle shift is the most hopeful act of all.