Usually around the beginning of November, I contemplate all of the festive madness and think to myself, Fuck the holidays. Then a tidal wave of mum guilt washes over me, so I tell myself that we will have a low key holiday this year (as I tell myself every year). I begin to tackle a few things on the list and holiday panic creeps up into my throat, so I submit to the fulfillment of the middle class performative holiday requirements, lest I be judged by my children, relatives or friends. The strangle hold of late stage capitalism firmly around my neck. Meanwhile, the world is on fire and the amount of active denial required for the holidays this year is next level.
The holidays are filled with all the usual overwhelming life stuff plus a ton of extra pressure, booze and tricky family dynamics. The political argument waiting to escalate. The passive aggressive comment aimed sharply sideways. The person that gets intoxicated and fades away from conversational reach. The host who woke up at 4am in order to deliver a holiday spectacle that wasn’t requested or required. The terrain can be pretty treacherous this time of year and most people have a difficult time navigating their way through, feeling alone in their struggle.
But before jumping down the rabbit hole of online shopping or completely going on strike, I asked my children what would make holidays meaningful for them. The little one said she wanted to watch Home Alone together by the tree. The big one said, making cookies and eating them together by the fire. Both of them said receiving gifts were a meaningful part of their holiday celebrations too. We talked a little more about sustainability, the impact of cutting down a tree, whether it’s environmentally responsible to send out holiday cards, the importance of shopping local and wrapping gifts in recycled paper rather than in beautifully glossy paper and plastic bows.
This little family dinner table conversation helped me to settle into a place inside myself where I can move forward with intention. So instead of feeling obliged to comply with the performative demands of the holidays, I have been re-examining the holidays through the Wheel of Consent, created by Dr. Betty Martin who wrote The Art of Receiving and Giving: the wheel of consent.
By widening up the aperture through Dr. Martin’s Wheel of Consent, we view consent beyond the flat construct of giver and receiver. Allowing us to see that the receiver isn’t necessarily the person on the other end of the interaction. In fact, the receiver may be the person who is also doing the action.
For example, if I agree to go to the holiday event hosted by my mother-in-law1, who desires to have the family come over for the holidays more than anything. She is both the doer and the receiver. By consenting to the family event, I am allowing her to shower this holiday event upon me that is for her own gratification. This helps me to get very clear about consent, energy exchange and power dynamics, which feels especially important when navigating sobriety and family dynamics this time of year.
Sometimes the giver is the doer and the receiver is who is having it done to them. For example, as a parent when I give gifts to my children at Christmas I am doing this for my children, who get to experience the excitement of opening the gifts they receive on Christmas morning. This perspective allows me to hold and relish my position of service to my family during the holidays.
Seeing the holidays through the Wheel of Consent allows me to stay present in my body and own the edges of my boundaries, rather than quitting or hunkering down and pushing through with empty consent (as Melissa Febos describes in Girlhood), waiting for it to be over, having avoided the more severe consequences of asserting my own desires and limits.
After asking the girls what would make the holidays meaningful for them, l also asked myself about my desires for the holidays. My intentions for the holidays is to be mindful about sustainability and to support my local community. My desires are to enjoy sitting with my girls and my beloved by the fire and the decorated tree, eating cookies and watching Home Alone together and spending time with my extended family, taking walks and playing games.
By understanding our own desires and choices, we can in fact opt out of it all, if we want. Appreciating that having something done to you doesn’t mean you are the receiver of that gift potentially changes how we approach the holidays. By holding all of the important nuances of consent, we may also find where we desire to lean in more. Regardless of what we decide, it is important to remain attentive to our felt sense experience, notice if our needs and desires change, and make choices without explanation or justification.
This post contains just a sprinkling of information about the Wheel of Consent. It can take a moment to fully take in the complexity of this model. My hope is this post piques your curiosity and interest in learning more.
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Febos, M. (2022). Girlhood: Essays. Bloomsbury Publishing.
Martin, B., & Dalzen, R. (2021). The art of receiving and giving: The wheel of consent. Luminare Press.
I don’t have a mother-in-law so this is just a hypothetical example :)