Three Small Anchors For December
December is my busiest month as a therapist. You think of Christmas trees, festivities, endless family dinners. Alas, amid all of that, there is often more pain, more hard feelings, more resentment and tiredness in my clients.
So for times like this, I want to share three small practices. They will not solve your problems. But they can help you feel more grounded and connected with yourself as you go through this period, and hopefully beyond.
A Ten-Minute Grace
I know, I know. Like yours, my hand was reaching for the phone the moment I opened my eyes. News, family messages, school updates, upcoming social events. Everything needed my attention. Sometimes I dreaded opening my eyes in anticipation of a stressful day.
And then I stumbled on this one by accident. I liked the voice on the Balance app and followed it to…a gratitude meditation. Ten minutes. Enough time to think, and enough to feel. All I had to do was follow the voice that said, “Get comfortable. Think of one thing you are grateful for in this very moment. And one more. And one more.”
At first, I was upset. I did not have anything impressive to be grateful for. And then it dawned on me: it was small, simple things that made all the difference. My magic window. The rain. A ray of sunshine peeking through my curtains. Birds. Someone’s smile. A book. Myself.
I have started looking forward to it. I do it the moment I open my eyes, just enough to open the app and press the button. A little frame to enter the day through. Something that reminds me that good things exist even when life keeps throwing heavy things at me.
Recovering a Simple Joy
For me, it is painting. You will say, “Not surprising.” But it was not the large canvases and oils I used to do. That felt like too much effort at some stage. And I have learned to respect that feeling instead of pushing through it.
I discovered watercolour inks (thank you, Roger!) and revived my watercolours. And then something unlocked.
I started on random pieces of watercolour paper, then bought myself small albums, then brought a big stash of beautiful paper from Europe. Every time, I could not say why I was painting or what. But I did it early in the morning, in breaks between clients and meetings, after a long day at work. Every free minute I had, I painted.
I have made around three hundred small pieces in a few months and still have no idea what to do with them. But I love the process. Every time, it opens a door to something light and colourful in me. Quite often, it helps me connect with the playful five-year-old who loved doing watercolour abstracts, also known as “strange paintings nobody in the family understood.”
I do not know if painting will bring you joy as it does to me. It may be writing, or dancing, or singing. Something that takes your mind off your challenges today (not just helps you lock them in a closet, hoping they will magically disappear). Something that helps you bring out your own light when things around you feel dark or muddy. A gentler way to process what you are feeling.
“What Went Well Today?”
This one comes from Dr Daniel Amen. At the end of each day, I pause and think about what went well for me. Not wrong, not to take lessons from, not something to be avoided or mended tomorrow. What went well?
It felt cringy when I first tried it. My brain, like yours, is wired to scan for danger, not to notice the good stuff. Like you, I was taught to focus on mistakes and extract lessons. But what this question did was help bypass the amygdala (the part of the brain focusing on survival) and go straight to the prefrontal cortex(the part that actually thinks and feels). And surprisingly, it helped.
I added it to my calendar for 9 PM. Some nights, I am genuinely astonished by how much goes in my favour without me noticing.
And the point?
These three practices can be your anchors. Or they can inspire you to look for your own: small, daily reminders that you are still here, still you, alive, surrounded by something good.
And sometimes that is enough to keep going.
Happy December!
