When Christmas Becomes a Place
Around the world, many people are getting ready for Christmas. Whether you celebrate it or not, the signals are everywhere: lights in the streets, familiar music, festive food, advertisements, gatherings. We are in the season of Advent, often described as a quiet, reflective time — and yet, for many, it feels anything but quiet.
Deadlines pile up at the end of the year. Projects need to be finished. Plans have to be coordinated. Families try to align schedules across cities or countries. At the same time, we are surrounded by images of what this season is supposed to look like.
In my work as an architect, I often see a particular pressure appear around this time: finishing houses just before Christmas. Clients want to move in in time to celebrate their first holiday in the new home. And honestly, I’ve never fully understood why.
What’s so magical about celebrating between unpacked boxes, missing kitchen tools, and decorations you can’t find? I think this is a kind of thought error. We imagine that stepping into a new house will automatically recreate the warmth and glow of childhood memories — even though none of those memories are actually connected to the very real, often chaotic moment of moving.
And of course, when you do have a comfortable place to celebrate, Christmas can be lovely. Cozy. Familiar. Grounding.
But today, I want to look at something else.
What happens when Christmas doesn’t feel like a celebration at all? When it becomes overwhelming, painful, or simply unfamiliar? And what if, instead of enduring it, we could gently redesign it?
When Christmas Becomes a Place — Not a Date
For many of us, Christmas is not just a date on the calendar. It becomes a place — an emotional landscape shaped by memories, expectations, sounds, smells, and past experiences.
For some, this place feels like home. For others, it feels like a place that no longer exists. And for some, it’s a place they never belonged to in the first place, yet suddenly find themselves surrounded by.
So let’s look more closely at these different “places” Christmas can become.
The Place of a First Christmas
For people living in countries or cultures where Christmas is not a tradition, December can feel like any other month — and yet, global media, international workplaces, and social networks bring the season into everyday life.
You might feel curious. You might feel slightly outside of it all. In either case, you step into Christmas as an observer, with one foot in and one foot out.
You walk through Christmas markets, taste unfamiliar foods, attend concerts, admire lights, or accept invitations from friends who celebrate.
Without personal memories attached, you explore the season a bit like a traveler in a foreign city. And often, that curiosity creates connection rather than loss.
The Place of Painful Memories
For you, Christmas may carry a bitter or deeply painful weight. A family has broken apart. Someone important is gone. A relationship ended. Your children have moved out.
Grief can enter the room before you do. In moments like this, Christmas becomes a place filled with shadows — somewhere you may not want to return to.
You might respond by leaving altogether. Not to escape the date itself, but to escape the images that come with it. Pine scent is replaced by ocean air. Familiar decorations give way to landscapes that hold no memories. It’s like choosing not to revisit a place you once loved but can no longer bear.
The Place of Transition
If you’re in the middle of a life change — separation, loss, a move, financial uncertainty, retirement, becoming an empty nester, or starting over in a new culture — Christmas may no longer fit the way it once did.
You might notice that returning to the old version feels wrong. But the new one hasn’t taken shape yet.
Usually, there’s no real way to escape. At the same time, walking into familiar traditions can feel heavy or artificial. You may find yourself doing what works in the moment: distracting yourself, keeping busy, pretending things are fine, pushing through…
It’s a natural response to being in between.
Over time, something subtle often happens. Instead of trying to recreate the past, you begin to allow small shifts — a different setting, a quieter plan, a new way of spending the day. Not because you’ve figured everything out, but because you’re listening more closely to what feels possible now. This is often how a new Christmas place begins to form.
Creating New Christmas Places
Over the past weeks, I spoke with some people about how they celebrate Christmas. Their stories had one thing in common:
You don’t have to carry Christmas the way you always have. It’s possible to create a new place for Christmas, no matter where you are or what your past holds.
Some people find themselves drawn to collective spaces — joining a choir that sings on Christmas Eve, attending community dinners, or taking part in cultural exchange gatherings.
Others prefer quieter settings: book clubs meeting in bookstores, slow walks through cities lit up at night, or wandering through holiday markets to observe craftsmanship.
Some choose to give their time, volunteering at shelters, kitchens, libraries, or local centers. And some create their own small traditions — cooking a new dish, sharing a meal with international friends, watching a movie, or shaping a simple ritual that feels grounding.
None of these erase the past. But they create room for new stories to begin.
Why Memories Feel So Real — and Why They Can Hurt
If Christmas feels difficult, it’s often because memories wrap themselves around the present moment like an invisible scarf.
We remember smells, tastes, rooms, rooms, decorations, people, conversations. These memories feel real because they are real. But they may no longer support who we are today.
Our brains hold onto them because familiarity feels safe — even when it hurts. Letting go can feel like betrayal. Holding on can feel like being stuck.
So the question becomes: Is this a place you want to keep returning to? Or is it time to design something different?
Designing a New Emotional Place
As an architect, I’ve spent decades designing physical spaces. And one truth remains constant: people perceive places differently, and those places can be redesigned.
You can rearrange, remove, add, rethink. The same applies to emotional places.
The Christmas you create doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. It doesn’t need to follow tradition or replicate the past. It only needs to reflect your values and your needs now.
If you want a certain experience, it helps to think about it before the season overwhelms you. Waiting until Christmas arrives often makes everything feel heavier.
What do you want Christmas to feel like this year?
What values matter to you now?
What kind of emotional space feels safe?
What kind of physical space feels comforting?
Who do you want to share it with — or do you want solitude?
What new story could begin here?
Once your values are clear, the space tends to follow.
Wherever You Are in the World
Whether you’re celebrating Christmas, avoiding it, discovering it, or redefining it — Christmas can be a place you enter, or a place you consciously build.
A place of comfort. A place of exploration. A place of quiet renewal. Rooted not in expectation, but in meaning. And flexible enough to evolve with your life.
So I’ll end with a question:
What kind of place do you want Christmas to be for you this year?
If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear your story.