By Jason Kirby PN1-SSRS, Living Proof Deep Health: The Heaviest Weight Is Doubt

Somewhere deep in memory, Christmas still looks a certain way.

It looks like a living room floor buried under a mountain of wrapping paper — torn, crumpled, and piled high.
The lump in the corner…it definitely looks suspiciously like the shape of a bicycle. Even before the paper comes off, you already know. And somehow, knowing doesn’t ruin it. It makes it better.

It looks like themed years — when Christmas wasn’t random, but intentional.
The year everything was Masters of the Universe.
Then Transformers.
Then G.I. Joe.

Whole worlds waiting to be opened. Entire imaginations packed into cardboard boxes and plastic blister packs. Christmas didn’t just give gifts — it gave stories, adventures, and something to believe in.

The Stories We Watched Every Year

It also looks like sitting on the floor — or stretched out way too close to the TV — watching the same Christmas specials every single year.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
A Charlie Brown Christmas.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
Frosty the Snowman.
Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town.
Mickey’s Christmas Carol.

They weren’t optional. They were ritual.

You didn’t question them. You didn’t skip them. You waited for them.

And then, later, the magic somehow expanded.

New ones showed up — Garfield, The Smurfs — and it felt like Christmas had grown with you. And then came the one that absolutely stunned kid-me: the He-Man and She-Ra Christmas Special. Heroes. Villains. Redemption. Christmas. All in one place. Skeletor proclaiming “I’m Not Nice!”  Brilliant.

Those shows weren’t just background noise. They taught us things we didn’t yet have words for — kindness, redemption, loneliness, generosity, hope.

They reinforced the idea that something good was supposed to happen this time of year.

And sometimes, belief wasn’t built at home at all.

It lived downtown — at the (now historic) Artcraft Theater — watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and Gremlins on the big screen. Those red folding seats weren’t exactly comfortable, and somehow, they were. They felt right. Familiar. Like part of the experience. The kind of place where laughter echoed a little louder, where Christmas felt shared with a room full of strangers who were all there for the same reason: to feel something familiar, something seasonal, something good.

Cold Faces, Warm Hands

It looks like sledding down the hill at the park until your face went numb.
Not cold — frozen.

The kind of cold that stung, that made your cheeks ache and your eyelashes feel stiff. But you stayed out anyway, racing back up the hill, laughing, daring yourself to go one more time.

Eventually, you’d stop just long enough to wrap your hands around a thermos — hot, sweet tea or cocoa — steam rising into the cold air. That warmth felt earned. Like a reward for staying out longer than you probably should have.

That was magic too.

Believing He Was Right Above You

It looks like watching NORAD track Santa on “radar,” fully convinced he was just above your state.

You’d watch the screen.
See him getting closer.
Panic slightly.

Then sprint to bed so he wouldn’t see you were still awake.

There was no irony in it. No sarcasm. No “what if.”

You believed.

And belief meant action.

The Art of the One Gift

It looks like the Christmas Eve tradition: you were allowed to choose one gift early.

Just one.

And the decision mattered.

This wasn’t random grabbing. This was strategy. Observation. Experience. A year’s worth of box-shaking, size comparison, and corner-peeking paying off.

You didn’t just choose a gift — you curated the moment.

And sometimes, you knew.

I 100% knew which box was Jetfire.

That knowledge didn’t ruin the magic.
It sharpened it.

Imperfect Snow Art and Perfect Nights

It looks like a snowman that never quite worked out.

No matter how hard you tried, it never became the version you imagined. Just a lumpy stack of snow that slowly turned gray and dirty at the edges. But it didn’t matter. It was yours. It existed because you tried.

And then there were the quiet moments.

Standing still.
Looking up.
Watching white snow fall against a massive, dark night sky.

That contrast — the silence, the scale of it — made the world feel bigger and safer at the same time. Like you were part of something gentle and enormous.

The Glow That Stayed With Us

Inside, Christmas glowed.

Not just from the tree, but from those iconic plastic blow-mold statues — Santa, Frosty, the weird giant red candle — lit from within, warm and steady near the fireplace. They weren’t elegant or fancy. They didn’t flicker or change colors.

They just were.

Oddly reliable. Familiar. Comforting.

They told you everything you needed to know without saying a word.

What Belief Really Was

As kids, we didn’t call any of this “belief.”

We just lived it.

Belief wasn’t about pretending everything was perfect. It was about trusting that joy would show up. That warmth would follow cold. That effort was worth making. That magic wasn’t fragile — it could survive torn wrapping paper, leaning snowmen, frozen fingers, and late nights.

Carrying It Forward

As adults, we don’t experience Christmas the same way.

We see the work now.
We carry the stress.
We understand the cost.
We know how much effort goes into creating those moments.

But here’s what hasn’t changed:

The invitation to believe is still there.

Not in flawless holidays.
Not in recreating the past.
But in choosing to create warmth anyway.
In choosing presence.
In choosing to make the effort — even when it’s imperfect.

That’s the grown-up version of Christmas magic.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
However this season looks for you — loud or quiet, joyful or complicated — I hope it brings moments of warmth, connection, and rest. May you find space to slow down, believe a little, and carry whatever magic you can forward with you into the days ahead.

– Living Proof: The Heaviest Weight Is Doubt

Jason Kirby PN1-SSRS, Living Proof Deep Health: The Heaviest Weight Is Doubt

After losing over 130 pounds and rebuilding his life physically, emotionally, and mentally, Jason created Living Proof Deep Health to help others do the same. His coaching focuses on deep health: nutrition, habits, mindset, stress, sleep, recovery, confidence, and the emotional layers most programs ignore.

Reflection Questions

Disclaimer: Educational content only. Not medical or mental health advice. Not a licensed physician or therapist. Consult qualified professionals for personalized care.

1.  When you think back on Christmas from your childhood, what memory or image comes to you first — and why do you think that one stayed?

2.  Which traditions or moments from your early holidays made you feel the safest, warmest, or most excited?

3.  How has your relationship with Christmas changed as you’ve gotten older — and what do you think caused that shift?

4.  In what ways do you still “believe” during the holidays, even if that belief looks different than it did as a child?

5.  Are there parts of the season you find yourself trying to recreate — and what do you hope those moments will give you now?

6.  What does Christmas magic look like in your adult life when it’s real and honest, not perfect?

7.  Where do you notice pressure showing up during the holidays — and how does that pressure affect your experience?

8.  What’s one small, intentional choice you could make this season to create warmth or connection for yourself or someone else?

9.  How do you respond when the holidays don’t look or feel the way you expected them to?

10.  If belief today is a choice rather than something automatic, what is one thing you’re willing to believe in — even a little — this Christmas?