Permission to Be Imperfectly Present
Welcome back to your Peak of the Week, where we explore what it means to live aligned, lead authentically, and build a life that feels as good as it looks.
This Week →
Why "being present" doesn't mean pretending everything's fine
How showing up as you are (tiredness, boundaries, and all) is the most generous gift you can give
Three micro-moves for staying grounded when family dynamics trigger you
Read Time < 3 minutes
Being present doesn't require perfection. It requires permission to be exactly who you are, right now.
WHAT I'M NOTICING
The holidays have this way of exposing triggers.
You've spent months setting boundaries, doing the inner work, and practicing presence in your daily life. Then you walk into a family gathering, and suddenly you're 15 again (no? just me?)….defending yourself, keeping the peace, pretending everything's fine when it's not.
Someone makes a comment. You feel your chest tighten. Your jaw clenches. You smile anyway.
Or maybe you're the one who stayed home this year, working through the holidays because it felt easier than navigating the emotional minefield. At least work is predictable. At least there, you know the rules.
Take myself for example. I feel grounded in myself in my professional life, but put me in a room with my extended family, and I’ve reverted to the 15-year-old Laura who doesn’t know how to stand up for herself or use her voice. I’m like WHAT? I thought I was doing way better than this and then end up judging myself. Ugh.
And underneath all of it? This belief that being present means having it all together. That if you're truly evolved, truly doing the work, you won't get triggered. You'll show up with perfect boundaries and endless patience and genuine joy.
You'll finally get it right.
But what if that's not what presence actually is?
WHAT IF?
What if being present doesn't mean pretending everything is fine?
What if it means showing up exactly as you are—tired, triggered, doing your best—and extending that same grace to everyone else in the room?
The most generous thing you can give your family isn't your performance. It's your regulated nervous system.
Not your cheerfulness when you're exhausted, your agreement when you actually disagree, or your endless patience when someone crosses a boundary for the third time today.
Just you. Present. Honest. Breathing.
The people around you don't need you to be perfect. They need you to be real. And sometimes being real means excusing yourself to take a walk. Sometimes it means changing the subject. Sometimes it means saying "I need some quiet time" without apologizing for it.
You've been practicing presence all year in your work, in your relationships, in your quiet moments alone. This—right now, in the middle of family dynamics that make you want to crawl out of your skin—this is where that practice gets tested.
Not because you're supposed to transcend the triggers and rise above it all, but because presence includes all of it. The irritation and the love. The boundary and the connection. The need for space and the desire to belong.
The work isn't to stop getting triggered. It's to notice when you're triggered and choose how you respond.
And that's enough.
MICRO-MOVES
This week, I'm inviting you to practice imperfect presence in whatever way feels most true for you right now:
If someone just triggered you: Excuse yourself. Seriously. "I'm going to grab some water." "I need to use the restroom." "I'm stepping outside for some air." You don't need permission. Trust yourself, and when your nervous system is telling you it needs a break….please listen to it. Take two minutes. Breathe. Come back when you're ready, composed, and regulated.
If you're anticipating a difficult conversation: Before you walk into the room, decide on your one boundary. Not ten. One. Maybe it's "I won't discuss my career choices." Maybe it's "I'll leave if politics comes up." Maybe it's "I get to change the subject." Know it ahead of time. When the moment comes, you won't have to think—you'll just do it.
If you already snapped at someone and feel terrible about it: Don't spiral. You're human. You got triggered. It happens. Forgive yourself and move on. Tomorrow's another chance to practice.
Pick one. Just one. And remember—you're not trying to be perfect at being present. You're just practicing being real.
If you're reading this between family gatherings, recovering from one, or bracing for the next—I see you. This isn't easy work. But you're doing it anyway.
And that matters.
Reply to this email and tell me: What does imperfect presence look like for you this week? I genuinely want to know. I love hearing from you!
Because we're building this awareness together, and you're not alone in it.
With deep belief in your magnificence,
Laura