This December feels strange in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been back to Spain many times over the last few years and this year particularly often. I was here in Spring, and Summer, and Autumn. But somehow, winter feels different.
I haven’t spent Christmas here for so long that I’d forgotten how the humid cold settles into your bones, how the evenings smell of rain, how the fireplace crackles and how the streets look at the end of the year, lined with trees covered in oranges and decorated with festive lights.
I’ve spent the last few days with family, delighting in all the traditional sweets that I usually miss out on and listening to all the villancicos, Spanish Christmas carols. But there are also tiny moments that catch me off guard, like forgetting the lyrics to songs I once knew by heart, or hesitating during traditions that used to feel instinctive. It’s like stepping into an old version of myself and realising she doesn’t quite fit anymore. It’s a bittersweet time.
I’m here for Christmas, but my husband couldn’t take time off to travel. He usually doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so he doesn’t mind me being here, and I’ll be flying back in time to ring in the New Year together with his family. But it’s a strange kind of in-between feeling: being present here, but with part of my heart being elsewhere.
It’s a difficult balancing act, and it’s one that many multilingual adults know too well.
Why December Hits Differently for Multilinguals
For those of us living between cultures, December is rarely straightforward.
It brings up the question of where home is, and who we become when we step back into old spaces. It reminds us that our identities shift depending on the language we’re speaking and the people we’re with.
December asks us to remember who we were in each culture, and to decide how much of that we want to, or can, carry with us right now.
Whether you’re an individual living abroad, a parent raising multilingual children, or an employee trying to stretch limited holiday leave across borders, December has a way of exposing every fragmented piece of our multilingual lives.
Being here in Spain again makes me aware of how belonging works differently for us. We carry nostalgia from several places at once. We remember deeply, yet forget unexpectedly. We feel at home in more than one culture, yet never entirely rooted in any single one.
The emotional in-between
If the holidays feel overwhelming, bittersweet, or strangely heavy, you’re not alone.
Many multilingual adults navigate:
- being far from a partner or family
- reconnecting with traditions that no longer fit perfectly
- switching languages constantly
- managing expectations from multiple cultures
- feeling both grateful and slightly disoriented
Sometimes December is joyful. Sometimes it’s isolating. Often, it’s both.
Finding calm in the complexity
The truth is that your December doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It’s okay if your traditions are imperfect, if your holidays are split between countries, or if you celebrate one culture’s rituals while quietly honouring another in your heart.
It’s okay to go home and feel both comfort and distance. It’s okay to forget the lyrics.
Let your holidays be flexible. Let them evolve with your life. And let yourself belong in whichever way feels honest this year, whether that’s with family, with your partner, across borders, or somewhere in between.
Because multilingual life isn’t about choosing a single home.
It’s about learning to carry all of them with you, gently, at once.
If some of these feelings resonate with you: the in-betweenness, the shifting identities, the pressure to juggle cultures. You don’t have to navigate that alone.
I offer personalised consulting for multilingual adults and families who want support with identity, heritage languages, cross-cultural communication, or simply the emotional load of living between worlds.
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