A personal reflection on presence, pressure, and finding your way back
There’s a feeling that many Santas, Mrs. Clauses, and other Christmas performers don’t talk about.
It doesn’t happen when the children run toward you.
Or when the photos are perfect.
Or when the room fills with laughter.
It happens later — quietly.
When the suit goes back on the hanger.
When the season stretches longer than you expected.
When you realize you’re measuring your energy instead of feeling it.
This past season, I found myself there.
And I want to say this gently, because I know I’m not alone:
Losing the feeling of magic doesn’t mean you’ve lost the magic.
It usually means you’ve been giving more than you’ve been replenishing.
When the role starts asking more than you expected
This last season was a good one by most outward measures.
Busy.
Successful.
Full.
There were days when the calendar was packed, the events went long, and the energy required was… real.
And yes — there were moments when a day started being measured in ways that didn’t quite fit my heart.
Not because the provision wasn’t appreciated — it was.
Not because I’m ungrateful — I’m deeply grateful.
But because that’s never been why I do this.
What mattered to me was the moment a child’s shoulders relaxed.
The way their eyes changed when Santa saw them.
The hush that falls when wonder takes the lead.
This season, there were days when the heaviness I carried in my personal life made it difficult to turn on the Magic.
Days when I had to conserve energy all day long just to be “on” at night — and when that happens, even rest begins to feel less restful.
Rest can stop feeling like rest when you’re holding yourself in reserve.
When the magic returns… and when it doesn’t
Here’s the beautiful and complicated truth:
There were many events where I walked in tired, unsure, and wondering if I had anything left to give — and then the children arrived, and the magic came rushing back.
Because that magic is real.
It’s relational.
It’s alive.
And there were also moments when I didn’t have much to give at all — and John carried it.
That’s not failure.
That’s partnership.
That’s humanity.
But it was a signal.
Not that the role was wrong.
Not that the magic was gone.
But that something inside me needed tending.
The part of Santa’s work we don’t talk about enough
We talk a lot about:
- Suits
- Scripts
- Techniques
- Traditions
We don’t talk nearly enough about:
- Energy
- Presence
- Emotional labor
- The cost of being “on” for other people’s joy
At some point, wearing the suit stops being about performance —
and becomes about who you are while wearing it.
And if you don’t have space to refill your own Magic Meter, even the most meaningful work can start to feel thin.
This doesn’t mean you’re done
If you’ve had moments this season where you thought:
- “I don’t feel it the way I used to.”
- “I’m tired in a way rest doesn’t fix.”
- “I love this… but I’m stretched.”
Please hear this:
You haven’t lost your calling.
You haven’t lost your heart.
You haven’t lost the magic.
You’re being invited to go inside it, not push harder.
A small practice that helps when the magic feels thin
Before your next visit — or even right now — try this:
• Put one hand on your chest.
• Take one slow breath in through your nose.
• As you exhale, silently say: “I don’t have to perform. I only have to be present.”
That’s it.
Presence, not performance, is what children feel first.
This doesn’t fix a long season — but it often reopens the door.
A reframe worth holding
If the magic didn’t feel the same this year, try asking:
“What did this season ask of me that I didn’t have language for yet?”
Often, the loss of magic is not failure — it’s growth without support.
Why I’m creating space for this conversation now
This is one of the reasons why I created The Santa Legacy Workshop.
Not to teach people how to perform better.
Not to add more to already full plates.
But to give Santas and Mrs. Clauses:
- Language for what they’re feeling
- Permission to tend their own inner North Pole
- Tools to refill their Magic Meter between visits
- Space to remember why they said yes to the role
Because the magic children feel doesn’t come from the suit.
It comes from a person who feels grounded, present, and whole inside it.
If this reflection resonates, you’re warmly invited to learn more here:
👉 https://thesantalegacy.com/santa-legacy-workshop/
And whether you join us or not, know this:
You are allowed to care for yourself
with the same tenderness you offer every child who comes your way.
That, too, is Santa’s work.
