The Songs That Stayed the Same While I Finally Changed
After the year I had, I made a simple decision last month. I was going to actually feel my emotions. Not just acknowledge them. Not analyze them. And definitely not shove them into a mental drawer labeled “deal with later.” Just feel them.
Oh dear… an emotional Richie? You all are in trouble. LOL.
I realized I’d been missing moments of reflection because I wasn’t giving myself permission to sit with what different experiences were stirring up inside me. As a high achiever, time for emotion and reflection has never made the priority list. Ironically, that makes no sense, because as a high achiever, unforgettable moments and memories are what drive me.
This year was a blur. I spent about 90 percent of it in survival mode for many reasons, one of them being fully consumed with the reality TV journey. I’m glad that’s over. Somewhere between airports, leadership, carrying all the in-home responsibilities, kids, hospital visits, taking care of my mom, deadlines, and life, the year just… happened. A month ago, during a middle-of-the-night, can’t-sleep moment, I posted a note on Instagram after realizing how much had actually happened in 2025, even though it all felt like one long fog. I’ll share that note at the end of this blog in case you missed it.
The response surprised me. A lot of people resonated with it. And what it taught me was simple. I need to give myself permission to feel things as they happen. I’ve also been reminded that there are people in my life who care deeply about how I feel, even when I try to dismiss it. And just because I don’t get what I specifically want from certain people doesn’t mean that thing doesn’t exist in my life through others. That’s probably a topic for another day.
But today, the thing I’m allowing myself to feel is Christmas music.
Ever since I moved to the United States as a kid, Christmas music has stirred up emotions I don’t fully understand. Why am I crying from a song? I’m not even a crier. And yet, here we are. I genuinely LOVE Christmas music. I can’t get enough.
There’s something about “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,” “Grown-Up Christmas List,” or my personal favorite, “This Christmas,” that completely wrecks me. Then January hits, the music disappears, and so does my emotional release. Hello, seasonal depression.
I had to sit with that and figure out why. It’s not about gifts. It’s not about missing people. It’s not even really about Christmas. It’s that Christmas music doesn’t change. The songs stay the same, and because of that, they unlock memories for someone who has spent most of his life suppressing emotions. It’s like a key to feelings I lock up because there’s no time to revisit them.
Christmas in Ghana was different. It was just another holiday. Not the Western Christmas I saw on TV. Trees weren’t special. Gifts weren’t expected. Family time didn’t change because family was already the priority year-round. As a kid, Christmas meant school was out, maybe cousins came over, and if I was lucky, I got a full bottle of Coke or Fanta to myself rather than sharing it. And the smell of my mom baking pound cake. That part I’ll never forget.
But respectfully, it wasn’t magical.
As someone who thrives on people and memories, Christmas will always stir something deep in me. A song can instantly take me back to a special gift, a house full of family, piling into a car in Houston with my future family to go to the mall, or the first Christmas my kids knew they’d wake up to gifts from Santa and them running down the stairs.
I’m literally crying as I write this while listening to “Grown-Up Christmas List.” Because, to be real, I’ve noticed that good emotions make me cry happy tears. I’m a big softie…
I miss my mother-in-law, who made Christmas feel like the holiday I only ever saw on TV growing up. I miss Christmases at Aunt Rosina’s house, where the kids spent all day catching up and goofing off while the adults gossiped about whatever adults gossip about. I miss Christmas Eve nights when my sister and I surprised our parents with gifts we saved all year to buy, things they would never buy for themselves. Like an iPad. Those are all great memories.
But it’s not just about missing those moments. It’s realizing that every Christmas creates new memories that get permanently attached to a song. Songs I’ll hear again next year because they never change. Songs that will unlock emotions I didn’t know I needed to feel.
So I’m glad I’m allowing myself to feel again. I’m glad I’m giving myself permission to cry.
Because 2025 taught me that if I keep ignoring my emotions, the moments will keep passing me by. I gave more of myself this year than I ever have. Somewhere along the way, the selfish part of me died a little bit. (just a little bit, because, let’s be for real. I really still do love me some Richie)
But, will I get anything in return for everything I gave in 2025? I don’t know. And somehow, I’m okay with that.
That’s growth.
Next Christmas, I’ll probably hear “O Holy Night” and remember what made Christmas 2025 special. And it won’t be a gift. It will be the growth. Becoming less selfish. And giving more of myself. And maybe, just maybe…. that’s what Christmas is all about. There’s this story about some baby being born to save the world… right?
