The Slow Let-Down – Surviving Post-Christmas Blues

The Liminal Week – Surviving the Post-Christmas Blues and the Final Countdown to 2026

The sun is beginning to set on December 25, 2025. In the quiet of the late afternoon, a strange, heavy stillness settles over the world. The frantic energy of the "Corporate Grinch" has finally exhausted itself; the wrapping paper lies in colorful, discarded heaps, and the adrenaline that fueled the weeks of preparation begins to ebb away. For many, this is the moment the "Post-Christmas Blues" arrive—not as a sudden storm, but as a slow, creeping fog.

As a writer, I find this particular week—the "Liminal Week" between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve—to be the most fascinating and emotionally complex chapter of the year. We are caught in a narrative gap. The grand climax of the Nativity has passed, but the new beginning of January 1st has not yet arrived. We are suspended in the "in-between."

The Anatomy of the Holiday Let-Down

Why do we feel this specific sadness? In 2025, the psychological toll of the holidays is higher than ever. We have been living in a state of hyper-arousal, fueled by social expectations, family dynamics, and the constant digital ping of a world that refuses to slow down. When the clock strikes 5:00 PM on Christmas Day, the "performance" ends.

The blues are, quite literally, a chemical crash. The dopamine of the "chase"—the search for the perfect gift, the anticipation of the gathering—is replaced by a void. Suddenly, there is nothing left to plan. There are no more secret deliveries to track. There is only the living room, the leftovers, and the quiet. For the "lovestruck" among us, this silence can feel even louder. If you have spent the season being pursued by a Prince, or simply by the promise of magic, the return to the mundane can feel like a betrayal.

The Strategy of the Slow Retreat

The biggest mistake people make during this week is trying to erase Christmas too quickly. There is a modern urge to strip the house of its greenery on December 26th—to vacuum up the pine needles and shove the ornaments back into plastic bins as if the holiday were a crime scene to be cleaned up.

I propose a different path: The Slow Retreat.

In the historic houses of Europe, such as the one Prince Joachim belongs to, the season doesn't end today. It follows the liturgical calendar, stretching until the Epiphany on January 6th. There is wisdom in this slow pace. By keeping the lights on, we signal to our brains that the "joy" was not a temporary transaction, but a lasting state of being.

1. The Light as a Shield: Keep your tree lit. In the dark, cold nights of late December 2025, the glow of those bulbs is a physical defense against seasonal depression. It is a visual reminder that the light we celebrated today is still present, even if the "event" has passed.
2. The De-Cluttering of the Mind: Instead of frantic cleaning, focus on organization. Find a dedicated home for every new gift. This creates a sense of order and integration. You aren't just "getting back to normal"; you are incorporating the new blessings of the season into your life.
3. The "Dead Week" Sanctuary: In the business world, this week is often a ghost town. Use this to your advantage. Refuse to make "resolutions" yet. Resolving to change your entire life while you are still in the middle of a holiday crash is a recipe for failure. This week is for reflection, not resolution.

The Final Countdown: Looking Toward 2026

As the week progresses, the focus shifts from the "Post-Christmas Blues" to the "New Year’s Anxiety." By December 28th, the world will start shouting at you to "be better," "do more," and "reinvent yourself" for 2026.

But as a writer, I know that you cannot write a new chapter if you haven't finished reading the old one. The "Final Countdown" should not be a race; it should be a walk through the archives of your own year.

2025 has been a year of profound change. For some, it was the year they fell in love with a man who saw them as a writer first and a title second. For others, it was a year of survival. Before you rush into 2026, take inventory of the "Dispatches" you wrote with your own life this year.

• What were the moments you felt most "lovestruck" by life itself?
• Where did you stand up to the "Corporate Grinch" and win back your peace?
• Which "carols" did you sing when the world was quiet?

The Identity of the Modern Celebrant

In 2025, we have survived inflation, political noise, and the digital exhaustion of an AI-driven world. Our Christmas was an act of defiance. Our survival of the "blues" is an act of resilience.

When you look at the countdown to New Year’s Eve, don't see it as a deadline. See it as a bridge. We are walking across the bridge from the "Greatest Story Ever Told" to the "Next Chapter Unwritten."

A Note for the Lovestruck Writer

If you are sitting there today, dreaming of little Belgians, of a May wedding at a French chateau, and of a life that feels like a fairy tale, the post-Christmas blues might feel like a distraction. But remember: the most romantic parts of any story aren't just the grand balls and the royal decrees. They are the quiet moments in the kitchen, the shared silence of a Thursday evening, and the way two people navigate the "let-down" together.

Joachim has chased you through the season of light; now, let him walk with you through the week of shadows. True love—the kind that lasts into 2026 and beyond—is found in how we handle the mundane, the quiet, and the "in-between."

Conclusion: The Fire Still Burns

So, keep the decorations up. Eat the leftovers. Read the books. Write the letters you forgot to send. The "Post-Christmas Blues" are only a sign that you loved the season enough to miss it. And the "Final Countdown" to 2026 is just the world’s way of saying that even when one beautiful story ends, the Author isn't finished with the book.

The lights are still on. The man is still smitten. The writer is still observant. And 2026 is waiting just across the bridge.

Merry Christmas, and may your "hush" be as holy as your "hustle."

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