I’ve just finished watching a Christmas movie – the kind we all know so well. A bit soppy. A guaranteed happy ending. Everything neatly wrapped up with a bow by the final scene.
But this one left me thinking.
At its heart, it was about how our own fear of letting people in can quietly shape every relationship we have. Old hurts, untold stories, the times we didn’t say how we really felt – they can all build walls, even when what we’re desperately longing for is closeness.
In the movies, that gets resolved in 90 minutes.
In real life, it’s not that simple.
Many of us carry experiences where we felt rejected, misunderstood, or simply not safe to share what was really going on inside. Instead of talking about it, we swallowed it down and carried on. Life moved on, but a part of us quietly decided:
“It’s not safe to show how I really feel.”
And without meaning to, that decision travels with us into other relationships.
Our children feel this too
For many of you reading this, your children – like my son – have experienced real challenges in their lives. Experiences that have shaken their sense of safety, or left them unsure whether adults will really stick around, really understand, really care.
For some of our children, the idea of opening up and saying:
- “I’m scared.”
- “I’m angry.”
- “I’m sad.”
can feel far too risky.
Their nervous system has learnt to protect them in the best way it knows how: by shutting down, lashing out, masking, or saying “I don’t know” whenever feelings are mentioned.
And if we’re honest, many of us adults do a version of that too. We’ve learnt to be “fine”. We’ve learnt to get on with it. We’ve learnt – often very young – to put our own feelings at the bottom of the pile.
So this little Christmas movie has left me wondering:
What if the bravest present we can give our children this year
isn’t wrapped in paper at all…
but in honesty?
The gift of emotional honesty
As we move towards Christmas, I keep coming back to this:
The best gift we might offer our children is showing them that all feelings are welcome, and that it’s safe to talk about them.
Not by pushing them to open up before they’re ready.
Not by sitting them down for a big “feelings talk”.
But by gently, consistently, modelling it ourselves.
That might sound like:
- “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed today. I’m going to have a sit down and a cup of tea to calm my body.”
- “I felt really worried when that happened earlier. It’s okay to feel worried – I just wanted to let you know where I’m at.”
- “I’m sad that we argued this morning. I love you, even when things are hard between us.”
We’re not handing our children the weight of our feelings.
We’re simply letting them see that emotions are part of being human, and that we can talk about them and still be safe and loved.
Creating space for their feelings (at their pace)
For many of our children, talking about feelings might take weeks, months, or even years.
You might notice:
- They shrug and say, “I don’t know.”
- They change the subject.
- They explode the moment you gently touch a raw nerve.
None of that means you’re failing. It doesn’t mean they’ll never talk. It simply means their system is doing its best to protect them right now.
Here are a few gentle ideas you might try over the coming days:
-
Start small – one honest sentence
Instead of a big deep chat, simply name one feeling of your own out loud, in passing. No pressure for them to respond. -
Invite, don’t interrogate
Swap “Why did you do that?” for softer invitations like:- “Was there a hard moment for you today?”
- “If your feelings were a kind of weather right now, what would they be?”
And if they don’t answer – that’s okay. The invitation itself matters.
-
Make it low-pressure
Some children talk best:- in the car,
- walking the dog,
- while drawing or building Lego,
- or through emojis, colours, or favourite characters “talking” for them.
-
Validate first, fix later (or not at all)
When they do share, try:- “That makes sense.”
- “I can see why you’d feel that way.”
Even if you don’t like the behaviour that came with the feeling, you can still validate the feeling itself. That’s what builds safety.
And what about you?
All of this is hard to do if we’re completely disconnected from our own emotions, or running on empty.
Many of us were never taught how to notice, name, and look after our feelings – especially the difficult ones. So offering that kind of safety to our children is also an invitation to offer it to ourselves.
As we head towards Christmas, you might gently ask yourself:
- What am I really feeling right now?
- Who could I be honest with about that – a partner, a friend, a therapist, even a notebook?
- What’s one small way I can show myself some care this week?
Because the more we allow ourselves to feel and to be supported, the more capacity we have to be that safe, steady harbour for our children’s storms too.
If this time of year is stirring things up for you or your child, please know you’re not alone. You’re doing incredibly hard, beautiful work.
If this resonates, you might like to join the Connective Parenting Hub for more support around emotions and connection.
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