A while back, I admitted to an old friend that I didn’t like Christmas (or the holidays in general). He asked why, and gave him the answer that isn’t an answer — “Because. I just don’t.” At the time, I didn’t have a concise, no-can-of-worms way to articulate it other than that.
After that conversation, however, I stumbled upon the book by Herbert L. Gravitz and Julie D. Bowden — Recovery: A Guide for Adult Children of Alcoholics. The text remains popular with contemporary readers despite being published in 1987.
About midway through, the authors tackled the question of why adult children of alcoholics (ACAs) often dread the holidays. In addition to pointing out how the holidays can increase conflicts, place ACAs in awkward positions, and prompt ACAs to compare what others are experiencing for the holidays to their own experiences, they stated that
“Feelings of guilt are reactivated during the holidays. It is really no surprise that with the ‘joyous season’ of the holidays approaching, adult children of alcoholics begin to feel joyless. […] They experience two opposing messages. Their own nervous system is telling them they hurt, while everyone else is telling them it is a happy time.”
Even though this quote is directed to and references ACAs, it can be applied in a broader way to anyone who has a reason to struggle through the holidays. You might struggle to find joy if the holidays mean remembering the loss of a loved one, recalling how you never got invited to gatherings, constantly worrying about money for gifts, or knowing that everybody around the holiday meal is going to have to endure Uncle Jack’s political tirades (again).
As an ACA myself, I can testify that, when the message that you “should” be happy during the holidays is everywhere but you don’t feel joy, it’s not just confusing, making you wonder what’s wrong with you. It’s also invalidating and, therefore, alienating. Even if you wanted to talk about what’s wrong, it’s difficult to feel like doing so is appropriate or can be managed without crushing everybody’s Christmas lights. This, I’ve often thought to myself, is not the time to bring any of it up.
How to admit the holidays suck
The problem with feeling like you can’t talk about how you really feel during the holidays is that it prevents people from offering comfort when you need it the most. Like Joy learns in the Pixar film Inside Out, a primary purpose of sadness is to enable others to come help. If you don’t admit you’re sad, people won’t get the signal you need someone to care, and they can’t make anything better.
Be direct and brief with clear asks.
You don’t have to share your life story. But be honest, such as saying the holidays are difficult because your earlier experiences weren’t that great, you’re still grieving, or your situation is complicated. Be specific about what your needs and boundaries are, such as telling someone you probably won’t go to a party that would overwhelm you but still would like them to check on you.
Be selective.
Not everyone is going to be a trustworthy confidant about your holiday struggles. Start by confiding in just one or two people you know will respond in a loving way. They might be able to be compassionate mediators who can help you practice or initiate necessary conversations with others or find other resources for you.
Highlight what works.
It’s OK to offer others an alternative you’re comfortable with. If the classic holiday movie on Netflix is going to make you feel sour instead of festive, for instance, suggest a few different films everyone can watch together. Let others know what you actually enjoy about the holidays and try to do more of those things, rather than trying to participate in activities simply because you feel obligated. If you create a clear way for others to engage with you, show why they’re equipped to help, and paint a picture of what you’d like as a positive outcome, most people will extend at least a little bit of compassionate flexibility.
How to help someone who’s struggling through the holidays
Offer acceptance, not judgment
Maybe what someone else needs, wants, or does during the holidays isn’t what you need, want or do. But that doesn’t make what they need, want, or do wrong. It just makes it different. Instead of making statements that can feel rejecting, or that can prompt feelings of shame or guilt (e.g., “You’re taking the fun out of the holidays for everyone!”, “What kind of person doesn’t want to come to a Christmas party?”, “It’s just some holiday shopping — we always go!”), simply listen. Don’t make comparisons or let your own expectations stop you from being truly attentive and appropriately responsive.
Offer more than one invitation/option for the holidays.
Just because someone doesn’t want to come to your holiday bash doesn’t mean they wouldn’t enjoy going caroling. Give people as many reasonable ways to participate as you can, the goal being to consistently reassure the struggling person they’re seen and loved and won’t automatically lose their “in” with you. The fact you keep trying will build some trust.
Start small.
A person who isn’t comfortable with the holidays often needs to take seasonal activities in small doses to reacclimate and learn the holidays are safe. Asking them to shop with you online for five minutes might be easier for them to manage than an entire crazily busy day flitting between stores, for instance. Over time, you can have them participate for longer durations, have them join you for larger activities, and increase the number of activities they’re involved in.
Ask plenty of questions.
We’ve been told by plenty of experts that offering our own experiences will help us seem relatable to the other person we’re talking to. But you have to approach this carefully — by switching the focus to yourself, you run the risk of making the other person feel less validated, because you interrupt their expression of their own story. Make inquiries to learn more about the other person’s experiences, needs, and comfort level, and if you do want to share pieces of your own story, do so in a way that allows you to circle back around to other person quickly.
I’m willing to admit now exactly why I have such a hard time during the holidays. But if all you can do yet is simply admit the holidays don’t make you feel good, that’s enough of a foundation to advocate for yourself. No matter what else you might find under the Christmas tree, that self-advocacy is a won’t-regret-it gift worth giving.