IN SEARCH OF A NEW CORE MEMORY

The Splodz Blogz Christmas Message 2025: In Search of a New Core Memory

Every December I sit down to write a Christmas message here on my blog. If the King and the Prime Minister can have one, then surely Splodz Blogz deserves its annual festive reflection, too. Over the years I’ve mused on everything from wonky Christmases to the absence of a tree, and from the power of love to a reminder not to panic. Each message has been my way of pausing, taking stock, and sharing a thought or two about what this season means to me.

This year feels different. I can’t pretend Christmas is all sparkle and amazement for me. Life has shifted, and with it, the ‘joy’ of Christmas has been wholly overshadowed. At the same time, I don’t want to tarnish the good memories of Christmases past, which are full of warmth, laughter, and strange traditions that have somehow shaped who I am. Those memories are precious, and they deserve to stay intact.

So instead of trying to recreate what was, I’m choosing to focus on something new for Christmas 2025: the idea of a core memory. A moment that becomes part of the foundation of who I am, sitting alongside all the others I’ve collected over the years. This Christmas, I want to create a new one, a memory that honours the past while gently opens the door to whatever may come next.

The Weight of Memory

This will be my forty‑fifth Christmas. More than half were spent with my husband, almost always in the form of a ‘double Christmas’, that is, one full day with his family, and one full day with mine. Two Christmases every year, each similar yet completely different, with their own traditions, quirks, and familiar comforts.

As I’m sure is the case for most, those days were mostly spent indoors, but there was always a little outside time squeezed in. Heading out before the festivities began for my One Hour Outside, playing with whatever new thing I’d been given in the garden after lunch, or walking at dusk to admire the neighbours’ lights and make space for the inevitable picky tea. One year we even visited the seals at Donna Nook on Christmas Day afternoon, a memory that has stayed with me ever since.

There are countless other fragments stitched together: the joy of giving and receiving gifts, the copious amounts of food lovingly cooked by both my mum and my mother‑in‑law, marathon Monopoly games, the Christmas specials on the telly, and the cosy evenings that followed busy days of family socialising. These are the moments that have built up over decades, forming the foundation of what a traditional Christmas looks like for me.

And while everyone’s story is different, I imagine you have your own catalogue of Christmas core memories too – the rituals, the meals, the games, the walks, the laughter. They are the expectation we carry into each December, shaping how we see the season and how we choose to spend it.

The Idea of a Core Memory

Psychologists describe core memories as the deeply ingrained experiences that shape our personality, beliefs, and behaviours; the ones that stay with us through thick and thin. Endel Tulving, who first explored autobiographical memory in the 1970s, suggested that these emotionally‑tagged recollections act like a database of our lives, influencing how we see ourselves. Or, to borrow from Pixar’s Inside Out, they’re the memories that are formed when a person experiences an event that defines them – stored in a special container in the brain.

As I’ve written about previously, I know I need to be proactive in my grief, to find ways to counter the sense of loss and of losing myself. One of the ways I’m choosing to do that is by deliberately creating a new core memory this Christmas.

Grief and Christmas

Grief is not just about remembering, it’s also about rebuilding. Experts in bereavement care often talk about the importance of making new memories as a way to maintain connection while moving forward. Creating something intentional in the present doesn’t erase the past; it honours it by allowing us to keep living, keep noticing, keep shaping who we are. Core memories, whether joyful or painful, are part of that shaping. They help us carry both grief and growth at the same time, reminding us that we’re still becoming.

And let’s be honest, Christmas can be a difficult time to grieve. I’m realising that without a doubt. The season is so wrapped up in sparkle and joy that it can feel heartbreaking to sit in it when your world has changed. That’s part of why I am choosing adventure this year. Not to escape, but to engage; to do something that gives me the feelings I know help me reconnect with myself. It’s a way of saying: I’m still here. I’m still capable of joy, of movement, of making something new.

A Core Memory in Norway

So, as this article goes live, I’ll be doing just that. I’m spending Christmas in Norway, learning to cross‑country ski. I’ll be somewhere new, doing something new, with new people, far from home.

Cross‑country skiing feels like a good choice because it offers that wild and free feeling I’ve always loved from being outdoors – the sense of being part of the scenery, moving through it with both feet firmly in the adventure. The vast majority of my core memories have come from such experiences, and while this one will be on my own and not with my husband, it’s part of working out who I am now.

I’m not expecting it to be easy. Going on an adventure over Christmas doesn’t change the facts. But I do want a few things: a new memory, a new skill, a break from tradition, time away from routine, and yes, some awesome photos. Whether this becomes a new tradition for me remains to be seen, but this year at least, I’m stepping out and creating something new for myself.

And maybe that’s the point. Core memories aren’t just things that happen to us, they’re things we choose to notice, to mark, to carry. This Christmas, I’m choosing one.

Practical Encouragement

I might be seeking something big here, an intentional adventure designed to take over my thinking for a while. But in the main, core memories don’t come from the headline moments. Often, they’re the small snippets of life that stay with us forever; the smell of something baking, the sound of laughter over a board game, the quiet of a winter walk. They can be found within the traditions we already hold dear, as well as in the new experiences we choose to create.

So, my message to you this year, is this: As you move through this Christmas Day, and into that strange in‑between period before the New Year, why not think intentionally about the memories you’re making? This week is a gift of time – a pause in the usual routine – perfect for choosing something that might become part of your own catalogue of core memories.

Here are a few ways you might do that:

• Choose one small thing: something simple, like a walk at dusk, a favourite drink, or a moment of quiet reflection in your favourite place.
• Mark the moment with intention: write it down, take a photo, or simply pause to notice it.
• Blend old and new: keep one comforting tradition, but add a twist that reflects who you are now.
• Invite community: share your activity with friends or family, or even in the comments here, so others can be inspired too.

Whatever you choose, remember that core memories are made in the noticing. They don’t have to be perfect or extraordinary; they just have to matter to you.

Carrying our Core Memories Forward

Christmas – and, in fact, life – is made meaningful by the moments we notice and hold on to, and the people we share them with. For me, this year is about creating something new to sit alongside the memories I already hold dear. For you, it might be about giving yourself permission to shape the season in a way that feels right, whether that’s a complete break from tradition, a gentle tweak to a familiar ritual, or trying a little something different just for you.

My hope is that you’ll find at least one moment in the coming days that feels worth keeping, something small or big that becomes part of your own catalogue of core memories. Let it settle in by the ones you already have, reminding you of who you are now and what matters most.

Here’s to noticing what matters, and to carrying forward the core memories that help us live fully. Happy Christmas.

If you enjoyed the Splodz Blogz Christmas Message this year, please do consider sharing it with a friend. Thanks.

PS: Whether it’s part of your core memory creation or not, don’t forget to get outside every day this week. Those little bursts of fresh air can be the simplest, most powerful moments at this very indoors‑focused time of year.