Cozy Doesn’t Mean Quiet (or: You Can Be Soft and Still Say No)

Somewhere along the way, “cozy” got tangled up with ideas like gentle, agreeable, and quiet. As if creating a warm, comforting space means you also have to be compliant. As if softness requires silence.

I don’t think that’s true.

The holidays are officially over, and I’m okay with that. I know this season lights a spark for many people -gatherings, rich food, music, lights, traditions layered on traditions. I enjoy parts of it too. But it’s also a lot. A lot of coordinating. A lot of harmonizing. A lot of being “the calm one” so everything runs smoothly.

And that kind of calm is exhausting.

As I’ve gotten older, my nervous system isn’t as elastic as it once was. Neither is my housewolf, Zelda, who has anxiety around fireworks - New Year’s Eve was rough for both of us, even with support and a prescription medication for her. When the holidays finally ended, the relief was physical. A deep exhale. A return to baseline.

That got me thinking.

What if the reason “cozy season” sometimes feels anything but cozy isn’t because we’re doing it wrong - but because we’re overriding ourselves to get there? Pushing past our limits to maintain traditions. Silencing discomfort in the name of harmony. Worse still, asking our bodies to tolerate things they’re clearly resisting.

For me, that never leads to warmth. It leads to burnout.

Cozy, at its core, isn’t about aesthetics or expectations. It’s about safety. And safety comes from listening to your nervous system, not ignoring it.

So if you’re craving real coziness, try this: don’t override yourself to create it. Let your boundaries be part of the atmosphere. Let your body have a vote. When you feel safe, comfort follows naturally.

You can be soft.
And you can still say no.