Pocketful of Mojo
Pocketful of Mojo
Recovering People Pleasers, Reclaimed Holidays
Holidays can pull us back into old roles before the eggnog hits the glass: the planner, the peacekeeper, the one who “makes it nice.” We’re done with that script. I walk you through a compassionate, practical approach to reclaiming your season without becoming rigid or combative, starting with a simple truth: your capacity is information, not a character flaw.
We explore how awareness widens your choices, turning guilt from a command into a clue. I share the cleanest boundary you’ll use all year—“That doesn’t work for me this year”—and how to deliver it without essays or apologies. You’ll learn to predecide your energy budget, choose connection over obligation, and craft exit strategies that keep your nervous system safe so you can actually enjoy the moments that matter. We also get tactical about regulation: stepping outside for fresh air, feeling your feet on the ground, slow breathing, and cold‑water resets that bring you back to a calm body where clear decisions live.
This isn’t about performing a perfect Christmas. It’s about presence. We unpack the tenderness of growth—the awkward in‑between where you’re not who you were but not yet who you’re becoming—and why letting people be disappointed is survivable. We curate what genuinely lights you up and release inherited rituals that drain you. As we close the season, I offer a permission slip to take up space, honor your limits, and lead your life with integrity. If you’re ready to swap people pleasing for self‑respect and turn tradition into a choice, press play and reclaim your holidays with heart. Subscribe, share with a friend who needs this, and leave a review to help more recovering people pleasers find their way.
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Hello my friend. And if you're listening to this on Christmas Day, first of all, I'm really glad you're here. Truly. Because if you're recovering people, please, sir, look, the holidays can feel like yeah, a lot. And this is our season two finale. And today we're tapping in with intention and clarity and a whole lot of permission. Because this Christmas, we're not bending ourselves into emotional origami or keeping the peace anymore. But we're still kind and we're still loving, but we're no longer sacrificing ourselves as a personality trait. So for today's very special episode, we're going to be pulling from all that we've learned this year and we're mapping out how we are going to navigate this season of giving and remember that we're in charge of how we show up. So this episode is dedicated to the version of you who used to overextend and over-give and over-explain and over-function and quietly underexist. Because we are recovering, people pleasers, and in order to be different, we gotta show up differently. So let's hold hands as we navigate without negotiation, please without seeking praise, because we get that from ourselves now, and settle into this new cozy era of self-love and how to take up space like we mean it. So buckle up buttercup, put some Baileys in your coffee, and let's take on this season as the badass beauties we know we are. And let's start by getting tuned in, tapped in, and turned on. Hey friend, it's me, Def, your Mojo Baven. Thanks so much for being here. And you know, like how to wrap up a season that's brought us so much. It has been a wild year, and I feel like it's gone by in a flash. So today we're gonna slow things down a bit and reflect with intention and celebrate how far we've come. It's my favorite. Like, let's talk about the version of you that existed this time last year, even, or before you knew that you were a people pleaser, or even like had the language for it. Because most of us didn't walk around saying, hey, I'm a people pleaser, and I will absolutely self-abandon between December 20th and January 2nd, like it was our out of office message or something. No, no, we didn't do that because we thought we were being kind and helpful. We wanted to be easy, breezy, beautiful, right? Low maintenance, the one who holds it together, the holiday hero, if you will. I know there was at least a few holidays where I was chasing that sash. And especially at the holidays, that kind of identity got reinforced, especially by those who didn't have anything to do, because they had us to do everything. And we do love a good pat on the head, don't we? So to get that sweet, sweet approval, we became the planner, the peacekeeper, the emotional buffer, right? The one who smooths everything over and makes sure we don't talk about things that might ruffle feathers. We anticipate needs before anybody even asks. And here's the part we don't talk about enough. You weren't doing this because you were weak. You were doing it because you were highly attuned. You learned how to read a room, you learned how to sense tension before anybody even said a word. So you learned to adjust yourself to keep things from exploding. And that's not a flaw. That's intelligence. But it became a trap. Because somewhere along the way, your nervous system learned, well, if I can keep everyone regulated, then I'll be safe. And the holidays, they are a nervous system stress fest. Old family dynamics, unspoken expectations called tradition and ritual, and roles that you didn't consciously agree to, but you somehow adopted them and you played it out that way anyway. Like I remember my inner feminist being so confused as to why all the women were hustling whilst the men folk watched the football. And all of this was validated by what I saw in TV and on movies, so I didn't make a fuss because that would upset the relatively peaceful time we were having. And I didn't want to cause a fuss, but I was also never taught the skills of how to question the inequity. How convenient, am I right? And then there's that funky nostalgia you feel when the family comes together like it does maybe once or twice a year and on at funerals, and you walk into a room and suddenly you feel 12 years old again. Or you're the strong one, you're the one that, oh, everybody can relax because you're here and you're gonna carry all the emotional weight. Or maybe you're the agreeable one, the people who want to get things done know to go to you to get it done. Because you're the one who doesn't make a fuss. And your body remembers all that, but not consciously, but somatically. Your shoulders tense, your jaw tightens, your stomach knots, the palms get sweaty, and before you've even had a sip of eggnog, you're already performing. Because people pleasing at the holidays isn't just about generosity, it's kind of fear management. There's all these little booby traps of like disappointing someone or coming across as being difficult or ruining the mood, or heaven forbid you're excluded from something because this is supposed to be the season where we all come together. So you adjust your behavior accordingly. And you give, and you give, and you give, and it's not from a place of overflow but obligation. And then there's the hardest truth for a recovering people pleaser to swallow. You weren't just protecting other people's peace, you were also avoiding your own discomfort. Because saying no feels scary. Setting boundaries feels like a threat or like a hammer being thrown down. Letting people be unhappy feels like you failed them, even though their unhappiness has nothing to do with you. And who wants to be in a room where people are yelling and disagreeing? So we keep the peace and we swallow it and we smile and we nod and we cope, and then you go home and you're super exhausted and maybe a little resentful, wondering why the holidays left you feeling empty instead of full. And listen, because this matters. The good news is that you're noticing this pattern now, and that means you've grown. The not so great news is much like the pajamas that you were gifted every year that were both itchy and a fire hazard. Awareness is not comfortable, it's destabilizing. Because now you can't unsee it. Welcome to being a grown-up. Because this is the part where you start to realize that tradition might have been a euphemism for obligation. And keeping that peace really meant keeping your mouth shut. And that being easy came at the cost of being honest and was the most expensive thing on the gift list. And that realization can feel heavy. And in this conversation, you can put it down for a minute. Because you might also run into your old friend grief. Grief for the years that you overgave, grief for the version of you that didn't know another way, grief for how early you learned that love was something you earned through accommodating what other people wanted. So if this holiday season in particular feels emotionally strange, like not terrible, but kind of tender, you're not weak, you're not regressing, you're waking up. You're in the in-between. Not to be confused with the upside down, totally different show. You're in that spot where you're not who you were, and you're not fully who you're becoming yet. You're in the in the waiting room, and that's actually one of the most powerful places to be. Because from here, you get to choose differently. Whew. Okay, so if any of that landed in your chest, maybe a little heavier than expected, just take a breath with me. Because this is not about blaming your past self. Because that version of you, they did the best that they could with the tools that they had. They didn't know. And people please didn't come from nowhere. It came from a very real need for safety and connection and belonging. And the moment things start to change isn't when you become more assertive or more confident or suddenly amazing at boundaries, which isn't a thing. It starts with being aware, which is why we tune in, tap in, and turn on at the top of every episode. Because it's that quiet moment when you notice yourself reaching for the old pattern and think, oh, this is that. That's awareness. Not to stop it, not to fix it, just to drop into the moment and notice. And what's cool and important is that awareness alone changes the experience. Like your peripheral vision just got a little wider. Because now, even when you do say yes out of habit, you're conscious of it. And then you start to notice the tension in your body and you understand why. And when the guilt shows up, you don't immediately s assume that you've done something wrong. And it doesn't stick around as long because you're actually interacting with it now, consciously. And then you find yourself responding instead of reacting. And that's why, for so many people pleasers, the holidays don't feel better at first. They feel different, maybe a little slower, maybe a little quieter, maybe a little more honest. Like the lights are on and you can see clearly now. And you're not numbing yourself the same way anymore, and you're not on autopilot all the way through the season. You're present, and presence, especially in old environments, can feel kind of tender. So if this season feels less frantic, less performative, and also a little bit emotionally exposed, you're not going the wrong way. It's not failure. Babe, that's growth. So I want to keep talking about the stuff that nobody warns you about because when you stop shrinking, the first thing that you notice isn't confidence. I know, right? Bummer. It's gonna be the contrast. You're gonna start to see very clearly what used to be normal for you. Like how quickly you would say yes, or how often you would manage other people's feelings, and how much free time you have. Because now you've got energy now that you're not making things nice for everybody. Because now you pause. Not because you're cold, not because you don't care, but because you finally include yourself in the consideration equation. And that pause, that tiny, powerful pause, it's where everything begins to shift. And you get new ones every day. They're everywhere that you look for them. Because when we're talking about what feels different now, and if you've been doing this work, even imperfectly, especially imperfectly, you might notice that some things feel different this year. So that's a good thing. So here's a few things that you're gonna start to notice. You're gonna be given a million opportunities to pause before you say yes. Not because you're rude, but because you're finally learning to check in with yourself first. And wow, it can feel uncomfortable and empowering at the same time. But the good news here is that the more you practice, the more the discomfort fades and the empowerment settles in. That's the cool part. Or maybe all of these no's have you feeling some guilt. But this time you notice it and you don't let it drive. I mean, it's still gonna show up. It's just not running the show anymore. Because you learn that guilt is information, not instruction. You can pull that thread of guilt, and I think you're gonna find something under there that maybe looks a little bit like some grief, and with maybe a scooch of fear, maybe of being rejected or pushed away. But what you're really making room for is yourself. And maybe all these new no's that you're throwing out into the world and protecting your peace and not going to things that you don't want to go to, this is your invitation to practice letting other people be disappointed. Or maybe they'll surprise you and they don't give a shit at all. And this can be big because you're gonna realize how strong you are when you're navigating this part. Because you're realizing that when people are disappointed, it's survivable and that conflict is not catastrophe, because other people's feelings are not your emergencies, because your number one priority is you, and that is some growth, my friend. And with all this going on, I'm my hope for you this holiday is that you're more present, not more perfect, not passing all the tests, because there's gonna be 110 billion tests. I've failed three already today. Yesterday, also not so great. But we get up and we try again and we observe and we give ourselves grace and we say thank you for the tests and we practice again. And then eventually we get out of our head and we stop performing Christmas and we actually start experiencing it. Less proving, more being. Like over these last few years, I've really taken the time to redefine my relationship with Christmas. Because you see, I had the privilege of growing up in a house that oozed Christmas in the best way. Everything was decorated. The constant smell of baked goods and Christmas carols in the halls, and my mom. She was this powerhouse homemaker, and this was her Super Bowl. Think Martha Stewart, okay? And as her sidekick, I got to participate in all this nostalgia, all the preparations and learned all the pitfalls of people pleasing from the expert. God love her. Her heart was always in the right place. And through my mojo work over the last few years since she died, has been really pivotal in figuring out what I want to keep and what wasn't mine to begin with, that I just inherited. So this helps me figure out what I can lay to rest. I get to choose. Will I keep listening to Johnny Mathis like we did on vinyl every single year growing up? Absolutely, it's on my playlist. On the regular. Do I need to put tinsel on the Christmas tree? No, because that is maniacal and awful. And just no, I think it's ugly. I get to choose. And I get to change my mind because I'm always aware of keeping what serves me and leaving what doesn't. And I'm always going to be a work in progress. And I hope I will be forever and ever because I've figured out more about myself through these tests and the data that it gives me. And it tells me about what I love and helps me remember who I am and who I'm not. And that awareness I was talking about really comes into play when we're confronted with all the hoops and labyrinths of the holidays. It's kind of like exam week. So let's dig into some practical holiday survival tools because that's what we do good here at Baka Volamojo. Because insight without tools is just inspirational noise. And we ain't here for that. So, tool number one, the no explanation boundary. Try this sentence. That doesn't work for me this year. Boom. Full stop. Period. No essay. No emotional PowerPoint presentation. I dare you to try it. I did that once. Oh my gosh, I felt like I got an instant superhero cape and like my hair was blowing like a Beyonce video. And then I want you to compare the end of the world scenario that your brain cooked up when I mentioned it just now. And compare the two. See how it shakes out. Now I understand it can be easier said than done. Families are complicated. Relationships, obligations are on blast this time of year. But what if there were actually fewer rules than you think? What if the best case scenario actually happens? What if you get what you want this year and actually have some peace instead of an existential crisis? What if the people who love you and are closest to you want the best for you too? So this is your invitation to just try this boundary on for size. Don't gotta be mean. Don't go be a jerk about it. And it just might be the fresh start that you've been waiting for all year. Tool number two, predecide your energy budget. Just ask yourself, how many of these gatherings will I actually enjoy? And what am I willing to give without being resentful? That's the deal you have to make with yourself. If I'm gonna do this thing, I'm gonna do it from a place of love. And nobody owes me anything back. Because your capacity is not up for negotiation, not even with yourself. And let me say this slowly, because this is where a lot of us still try to negotiate with ourselves. Your capacity is not up for negotiation. And I don't mean that in a harsh, like too bad, so sad kind of way. I mean it in a grounded, self-respecting, nervous system aware kind of way. Because your energy is finite. All right. Your emotional bandwidth, it has edges to it. And your body keeps score. Even when your mouth keeps saying yes. Like for years, I didn't understand this. I thought, you know, capacity was just something that you powered through, something you expanded enough with all the willpower, right? And especially at the holidays, I used to treat exhaustion like a personal failure. Like if I was tired, I told myself I should be able to handle it. If I was overwhelmed, I told myself I'm being dramatic. If I needed space, I told myself to suck it up. Because somewhere along the way, I learned that love was proven through endurance. But capacity isn't about effort. About sustainability. It's not a mindset issue. And it's not something that you fix with better planning or a prettier attitude. Capacity is information. It's not good, it's not bad, it just is. And it's your nervous system talking to you, saying, This is what I can hold, and this is where I start to shut down. And when you ignore that information long enough, your body doesn't ask louder. It just takes over. And that's when resentment creeps in. That's when you feel disconnected. And that's when the joy drains out of things that you actually care about. So honoring your capacity isn't selfish. It's just responsible. You can't drive further than the gas tank will let you. And it's the difference between showing up resentful and showing up real. And when you stop negotiating your capacity, a few things happen. Like if you're looking to make that shift, here's what it can look like. You're going to say no sooner, not later, after you've already resented things that have already happened. You leave the party earlier, not after you've pushed past your limit. And you choose quality over quantity, connection over obligation. And yeah, some people might push back. They'll say, like, oh, it's just one more thing. Or you used to come all the time. Or can't you make an exception? Or it makes me think of that scene in Love Actually, where Colin Firth's character decides that he's not going to go to his family dinner. He's going to go to Portugal and meet the love of his life. And so he goes to his family home and he drops the presents and he's like, Hello, Merry Christmas. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. And he leaves, and the kids are like, I hate Uncle Jamie. And uh he broke all their hearts. And he was okay with that because he was going after the love of his life. I digress. You've seen the movie. But my point is the old reflex will flare up the urge to explain or soften or justify or even cave. But here is your practice. You don't need to convince anyone that your limits are real. They're real because you feel them. And the more consistently you honor them and listen to them, the safer your body feels. And when your body feels safe, you're more present, you're more generous, you're more connected, not less. So if you want a phrase to hold on to this season, try this one. I honor my capacity so I can show up as myself now with integrity. Not perfection, not performance, integrity. So this is where you ask yourself, honestly and gently, where have I been agreeing out of obligation instead of desire? Look at your calendar. What do you want to go to? What are you gonna maybe skip next year that you've got some data? How are you gonna navigate the holiday party at work differently? Because man, three hours was just too long. And where am I already over capacity and pretending that I'm fine? And what would it look like if I was actually honoring myself? And you don't need to answer perfectly. There is no such thing. Just notice. Give yourself permission to let your w mind wander and just explore how you might show up differently next time. Because that awareness alone is enough to start changing the pattern. So you've asked yourself, how much can I handle before I break? What allows me to stay connected to myself? And that answer is your capacity. And it's not up for negotiation. For me, I stay close to what lights me up. I give myself permission to pluck and curate a season filled with my favorite things. And at Christmas time, it's abundant. Like first, it's the music. I cry happy tears pretty much every day in December because the music is just so fucking whimsical and it's filled with joy and celebration and togetherness and magic and wonder and raindrops and roses and whiskers and kittens. Yeah. I have that shit on blast in my car every day, and it's the soundtrack to every cookie I bake. Oh yeah, and baking. Baking is my happy place. I discovered baking when I was emotionally at my lowest, and I think it's because there's like an element of control and precision. And then, of course, who doesn't love a delicious end product to share with the people I love? So I'm in the kitchen and I'm suited up in my mom's apron at least twice a week during the holidays. Johnny Mathis, the Boston Pops, Dean Martin on Blast, and like so many dishes. But it's no longer a chore because for me, it's an exercise in putting love into something that I'm making for people I love, created in a moment where I'm showing up, you know, as myself with love. And while this season of my life doesn't afford me to throw, you know, the dinner parties or cocktail soirees that I'd love to, I know that whether I'm in a house full of people or not, I've learned what fills my own cup, what makes me happy, what my non-negotiables are. And you know what? No one else cares. Which is totally fine with me because they're not responsible for filling my cup anymore. Uh, because I am, and now I do. Because now I have all this free time because I'm not running around making everyone else's to-do list easier. I can concentrate on my own. And let me tell you, it feels pretty badass. So let's have a look at the next tool in the toolbox, and that's the exit strategy. This is the one that has been worth waiting around for. Like I remember being at an annual mandated family function, and it was shortly after dinner, and we were entering that nebulous part where there's like no longer a meal to look forward to, and the small talks kind of dried up, and alcohol is starting to take the evening into like murky, unpredictable waters. So I'm I look across the room at one of my fellow prisoners, sorry, guests, and they're putting on their coat as if to leave. And I was like, uh, you can do that. So we're gonna talk about something that changes everything for recovering people pleasers, and that's an exit strategy. Because forever, many of us walked into Hololake gatherings like it was a life sentence or a shift at our job. No end time, no escape plan, just a quiet, panicked hope that we'd somehow survive it. And at some point we'll get permission to leave once all the dishes were done. And when you don't know when you're allowed to leave, your nervous system is gonna stay on high alert. And that's where you feel kind of edgy, and then you overfunction, and then you struggle to be present, and then you miss out on the fun times, and you even have a hard time remembering moments from the night because your body doesn't feel safe because it doesn't know when relief is coming. So don't think about an exit strategy as rude. It's regulating, it's telling your nervous system, I'm not trapped, I have options. And that alone changes how you show up. And that's the magic of giving yourself permission, because you're a grown-ass human and it comes with privileges despite what you've been told. So here's what this looks like in practice. Decide before you go how long you realistically want to stay, what signs tell you that you're nearing your capacity, and how to leave without drama or explanation. So maybe that means that you drive yourself, or making sure that the Uber app is downloaded and attached with a working credit card so that you're not relying on someone else and how they feel about how the night's going. Or give yourself a time boundary, like, let's pop in for an hour. And just having a neutral exit line that you're gonna say to people, like, okay, guys, we're gonna head out. Thanks so much for having us. No apologies, no backstory, no justification, no work in the morning, no emotional debrief at the door. Because leaving before you're fried is not selfish. It's how you preserve your connection. Because when you stay past your capacity, you don't become more loving, you become more resentful. And resentment is gross. And it's not what's damaging relationships these days. Boundaries aren't damaging anything. So for recovering people pleasers, leaving early isn't avoidance, it's discernment. Which takes us to tool number four regulate, don't ruminate. So this one's huge because most people pleasers don't struggle with caring too little. We struggle with staying stuck in our heads. And regulation is what helps you come back into your body where safety lives. And ruminating is what's keeping you replaying these conversations, the tones, the facial expressions, should what should I have done differently on that mental loop, right? But you can't think your way into feeling safe. Safety is a physical body experience. So when you notice your system getting activated, your heart racing, your chest is tight, your jaws cleansed, your breathing's a little bit more shallow. Don't think about it. Regulate it. So maybe it just means stepping out for some fresh air, putting your feet on the ground, on the floor, and just noticing it below you. Right? Take some slow, deliberate breaths. Maybe you just excuse yourself to the washroom, run some cold water over your wrists. And this and getting regulated matters because when you're regulated, you're not as likely to go into over-explaining mode or apology mode or say yes out of panic, or even absorb emotions that aren't yours. Regulation just creates a space between the stimulus and the response. And in that space, you get choice, you get clarity, you get a beat to think about what you want. And you get access to the version of you who isn't trying to survive because you're in safety. So instead of replaying, did I upset them? Should I have stayed longer? Was that selfish? Try asking yourself, what does my body need right now? Because calm bodies make clear decisions, and maybe you just need a snack. Now let's zoom out for a moment. Like this season, we talked about a lot. We talked about identity beyond your productivity. We talked about confidence without performance, emotional stability being the real flex, how boundaries are bridges, not walls. I've been talking about celebration forever. And the through line through all of it is that you're not here to be palatable. You're here to be whole. You don't need to earn your rest, and you don't need to justify your needs, and you don't need permission to take up space. And if you do, boom, here you go. You've got permission. Go take up some space. So as we head into a new year, here's what I want you to carry forward. You don't need to become louder, just truer. You don't need to get harder. You just need to anchor yourself in who you are. And you don't need to shrink. You need to reclaim. Because season three is about reclaiming your voice and your energy and your leadership in your own life and reclaiming the parts of you that learn to hide to survive. And we're going to do it together. So if today feels peaceful for you, beautiful. Love that for you. And if today feels complicated, also very sexy, very okay. Because you're allowed to hold joy and boundaries. Have love and limits. Have connection and self-respect. So from my heart to yours, my friend, thank you for being here today and this season. And thank you for being brave and doing the quiet work of becoming yourself again. Merry Christmas, my friend. Happiest of holidays to you and yours. And remember this reason for the season. It's love. Capital L Love. And may it find you in abundance. And you remember that you are the ultimate source. I'm gonna see you in the new year. Bigger, braver, and no longer bending yourself to fit. I love you. I'm proud of you. And here's to us and an amazing year ahead for the good of everyone. Ciao for now, my friend. Mojo out.
