December has a particular kind of quiet in it.
Not the peaceful kind. The other kind. The space between what this time of year is supposed to feel like… and what’s actually happening inside your own chest.
I’ve always loved Christmas. Or maybe I’ve loved the idea of Christmas. When I was little, it just… worked. Lights, music, films, food, excitement. No analysis. No comparison. No awareness of what was missing.
As an adult, it’s different. The same decorations go up, but the feeling underneath them is more complicated. Heavier. A bit brittle.
I’ll be walking through town, or scrolling, and see couples choosing trees, families in matching jumpers, groups of friends at markets, arms linked, cheeks flushed from mulled wine. And instead of warmth, I sometimes feel distance. Like I’m watching through glass. It’s not jealousy exactly. It’s more like longing with nowhere to land.
And then comes the unspoken rule: you’re meant to feel festive. Be sparkly. Be grateful. Be in the spirit.
There’s something strange about being surrounded by tinsel while quietly feeling tender, or tired, or lonely. It can make you feel like you’re doing December wrong. But the truth is, for a lot of people, this time of year magnifies what’s already there. If you’re content, it glows. If something’s missing, it echoes.
That’s where Believe came from. Not from a perfectly lit living room, but from that in-between feeling. Wanting the magic. Not quite touching it. Watching the “movie version” of Christmas play out around you and thinking… it’s not quite like that in here.
Still, I always find myself trying to make a bit of magic anyway. Not the cinematic kind. The small kind. A cold walk when the air feels sharp and clean. A candle on a random Tuesday. A song that lets something soften for a few minutes.
Sometimes belief isn’t a feeling that arrives. It’s something you decide to lean towards, even if it feels fragile.
If your December feels messy, or quiet, or lonelier than you’d like, you’re not broken. You’re not failing at Christmas. You’re just being human in a season that sells a very specific story.
And if Believe can be a place to sit with that, even briefly, then it’s done what it came to do.