Dear Santa: An Open Letter
What I'm giving MYSELF this holiday, mentally and materially.
Dear Santa,
I need to take a break from the breakneck pace of holiday commitments and chat with you for a bit. I haven’t sat down to write in weeks; it’s been more about cranking out content. My personal life has been filled with hard lessons about weeding out one-sided relationships. I need to spill my brain onto the page for a minute and process, so I hope you’ll indulge me in a more personal letter.
Recently, I came to terms with the fact that there were people (more than one!) close to me treating me like a human ATM. It made me step back and look at my boundaries hard. I’m pretty good at setting them, but there will always be the “give a mouse a cookie” type. You know… if you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to want some milk… and so on… the people who always have their hands out for more, more, more and never pause to consider how they might bake you a batch in return.
It’s interesting how someone else’s bad behavior makes me feel bad about myself. How did I let this relationship get here? Am I avoiding confrontation? Am I people-pleasing? Is the care-taking I extend to others a symptom of some other lack? I don’t know. But I do know that if I weren’t carrying these relationships with presents, parties, favors, introductions, and covering the cost of everything, the relationships wouldn’t exist — because they’re entirely one-sided. And I’m not just talking about the random fair-weather friend; this is happening within my family! It’s a tricky thing to synthesize.
I’m sure you’ve encountered a spoiled rotten brat or two in your hundreds of years of delivering presents. So, I’m following your lead and making a naughty list of my own.
This stuff triggered a tsunami of memories — other times in my life when I let someone abusive or entitled creep in. I thought about an old assistant who conspired to have me fired and take my job. I thought about an ex-boyfriend who used to hit me so hard he almost killed me. I thought about my Dad, the illness’ patient zero.
Does it probably all come down to my Dad in the end? Sure. I’ve been in therapy long enough to connect the dots. Absent, alcoholic Dad + being the eldest daughter equals BIG issues with hyperindependence and abandonment.
It also made me highly sensitive to the needs of people around me. I grew up in an environment where I always had to be hyper-aware of my abusive Dad’s moods. I learned to anticipate them by the tiniest eye flutter. I could feel when the room was about to shift dark. A lot of the time, that meant I could get ahead of it, manage it, try to curb his outbursts, or absorb them so they weren’t passed along. And I know that habit still plays out in my life today: I anticipate the needs of others and try to meet them. It also means I drive too hard sometimes because I’m always scared the car is about to skid wheels-up into a ditch.
Mostly, I enjoy this. I don’t consider consideration a burden. I’m proud that I inherently understand people and am kind, regardless of where the skillset originated. I don’t lose sleep worrying my stocking will be filled with coal. But occasionally, a relationship will fall profoundly out of balance. From there, my patience begins to erode until it ultimately ends.
So, Santa, last night, I tried to shift my perspective from “Why am I like this?” to “What can I do about this?” Given that we’re so famous for colluding with you for our gift guides around here, I thought about what I could give myself this holiday season that would potentially help heal and reset things a bit. This is what I came up with. Maybe you can help me stick to it.
Giving myself the gift of “grid zero.” I hate Instagram as a performance; I do. And this isn’t new; I’ve never cared for it, probably because I’m not good at it! So, seeing this “grid zero” trend emerge has been validating. With the consumption backlash of 2024, I guess it’s only natural that there would be an exposure backlash, too. People don’t want their entire lives online anymore, and I’m one of them. I will still share when I think it will help someone connect or relate. But I like to provide value with the things I send out into the ether — and most of the time on ig, I’m just sending crap out to feed an algo so it won’t bury me in obscurity. I’m done with feeding the feed. It feels tired. I like to DM friends there. I like the ease of Stories. But the grid, the Reels, and the churn have to go because all they’re doing is creating mental clutter. Nobody needs to know (or even cares) what I ate for dinner in Gainesville in 2008. So, I released myself. If you land on @jessnellgraves, you’ll get a general sense of me. But I archived all of my posts (15 years worth) except for like, 20 photos.
Practicing outrageous gratitude. I have been through hell, so I don’t take for granted the magical life we have here in New York. But I think writing things down is powerful, so I will do that more to memorialize what I’m thankful for.
Globe Trotter suitcase, vanity case, and jewelry case. Cuyana pouch set and mini pouch. Hunting Season weekend bag. Celine “Made In” tote. Balenciaga medium Rodeo bag. The Row bag charm. Rohe Frames coat. Khaite Ona boot. Adult luggage. I’m weary of my mismatched, rag-tag gang of suitcases from the last 15 years. I’m at an age where I rarely find myself in seat 37C anymore (shout out to Lisa Barlow), so why am I dragging some beat-ass roller to 2A? So I got myself a big-girl rolling suitcase, a jewelry case (plus a smaller one for carry-on), a proper vanity case and makeup brush roll, some packing cubes, some pouches (including a tech case for chargers), and a proper weekender. All coordinating.
Things that make finding my keys faster. I live in a pre-war building in Gramercy Park. Things are highly analog. I’m tired of fumbling for my keys in the depths of my bag, so bags with thoughtful key attachments or bag charms that function as such have shot to the top of my shopping list.
More good coats and boots. At this time of year, a warm, chic coat is the entire outfit, and a good-looking boot with a sturdy heel that doesn’t look like sad Millenial bait from a 2015 J.Crew catalog is a win. (Oh wow, this one is great too.)
Journaling. I miss it! When writing for others is your job, writing for yourself tends to be deprioritized. But it’s so good for me mentally, and I need to take it back up. It feels like dumping the poison out of my brain and spilling it onto the page. I can close the cover and walk away cleansed.
Using the “mute” button more freely. I used to think un-following people was petty. But now I get it; it’s not really about that person noticing; it’s about taking away their power to disrupt your day abruptly. Same with my phone — you don’t need to be able to text me if you don’t mean me well. Block! Blockity block block.
Doubling down on my EHG Archetype. “She lives her life on DND because notifications disrupt the alignment of her nervous system.” Thank you
, for assigning language to someone I have always known myself to be. Romcom DND culture TRULY IS is Biologique Recherche mask culture.
Clothes, beauty, and skincare for the life I have, not the one I aspire to or used to have. Perhaps the most unexpected material transition from Atlanta to New York has been my shoes. I require more from them. I used to buy lots of heels that would qualify as “curb to cab” in Atlanta car culture, but in Manhattan, I’m veering heavily into loafers, slippers, and sneaks. I work from home; I no longer require a bevy of blazers — a few will do! Comfortable basics that make me feel “dressed” and not like a slob kabob in my pajamas all day are never a bad buy. A few nice things for the evening are essential now that I have a dinner almost every night of the week, but I don’t need a ball gown. And I don’t wear that much makeup anymore! Only if I’m going out in the evening or have market appointments. So I don’t need piles of it the way I used to when I wore a full face every day working corporate. Focusing on nice skin is just fine.
Allowing myself to dislike the things I dislike OPENLY. Bring back grumpies! I’m pretty liberal, but Woke’s gone past the point of common sense. When did we collectively abandon nuance? We live in a world where everyone is too coddled, and sophisticated people have shied away from strong opinions for fear of cancellation or offense. I don’t think everyone deserves a participation trophy for existing, sorry. In that spirit, here are some things I don’t like: Astrology as a diagnosis. Extreme wellness. People who complain about content online rather than just disengaging. People who think Black Americans should “get over” slavery because it’s “in the past” (no, it isn’t). Publishers who build brands based on rage bait and sensationalization and brand themselves as truth-tellers. Gluten intolerance, which is not real and is an insult to people who actually have Celiac — your tummy hurts sometimes and/or you’re using it to mask an eating disorder. Cigarettes are a fabulous occasional indulgence and good for the soul. Your confederate flag makes you look inbred. Your cashmere is going to pill; it’s a natural fiber — stop bitching and get a cashmere comb. Anyone who thinks Joe Rogan “has some good points” can point themselves over a cliff. Superdrunk people are the worst; hold your liquor or don’t drink. Men who don’t go to therapy should immediately be categorized as incels. The female version of an incel is a woman who thinks it’s fun to spend time tearing people up on Reddit. Burn all wooden stacked heels. Stop saying, “I did a thing.” All women are perfect until proven otherwise, but “Women [blindly] supporting women” is infantilizing and simple-minded. Headphones and video games are killing young people’s ability to socialize normally. There is not a single person you follow online who owes you anything, not one. If you live in New York, do not walk more than two deep on the sidewalk, maintain traffic flow, and get your nose out of your phone. If you need to look at your phone, step aside so people don’t walk right into you. And for the love, do not wear a Goddamn adult backpack.
Bringing terms of endearment back. Maybe it’s because I’m Southern, but among close friends, everyone is babe, honey, sugar, my love, buddy, etc. It implies a level of intimacy and affection that’s earned and treasured. Would I call a new friend “babe”? Obviously not. But if you’re my bestie, you’re “my love.”
A little something extra. I’m not a huge bag charm person, but Chanel stole my heart when they sent me this charming purse-sized iteration of their famous No. 5 scent. I love the extra detail cleverly affixed to my favorite bag. I feel the same way about a special piece of jewelry. I can’t deal with things that turn my skin green anymore, and there are so many lovely things out there at even the most entry of entry point prices. I’ve recently become a fan of Savannah Friedkin, I wear her broken band ring stacked with a cocktail ring. I like the push-pull of her more modern pieces against inherited estate pieces.
Permitting myself to remove who and what isn’t for me, no matter how integral or close to me. I don’t hate these people or things; it isn’t spiteful. It’s simply that I have determined you bring nothing to the table for me, so you’re just kind of… vapor. A net neutral. Apathy. You exist, but I’m choosing to ignore it.
Treating myself. I LIKE STUFF. Sorry! I'm writing a shopping newsletter. What do you want from me? Beautiful things give me joy. Indulging in a gorgeous bathrobe is a privilege I’ve earned, and I don’t need to justify it.
Loved reading this more personal note, Jess. I, too, suffer from EDS (eldest daughter syndrome) and have a complicated history with a Dad who has mental health issues, so I really resonated. I see you, and I'm sending you love and strength. <3
(Also, extremely here for you treating yourself to all the adult luggage, obviously)
Well this was a refreshing and nourishing read, completely agree with every thing you said.