Finding Steady Ground When the Holidays Feel Complicated
The holidays have a way of stirring up parts of us we thought we’d tucked away—the tender spots, the memories we didn’t ask for, the weight of old roles we slip back into without meaning to. And sometimes, even when the lights are warm, and the music is soft, our bodies remember things before our minds do. If this season feels complicated for you, I want to say something with as much care as possible:
You are not difficult for finding the holidays difficult.
You’re human. You’re layered. You’re carrying a story that hasn’t always been held gently. And the fact that you’re even thinking about how to navigate this season more wisely says something hopeful about you—you’re trying to do things differently. You’re looking for peace instead of perfection. You’re looking for steadiness instead of survival. That matters.
You Don’t Have to Pretend You’re Okay
There’s a quiet bravery in acknowledging your own limits. Maybe you're walking into family dynamics that feel unpredictable. Maybe certain people bring up emotions you don’t fully understand. Maybe you're grieving what the holidays “should” have been, or what you wish they still were. If you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or unsure:
There is nothing wrong with you.
You don’t need to force joy. You don’t need to paste on a smile. You don’t need to carry the weight of keeping everyone else comfortable. Your only job is to stay connected to yourself.
Boundaries Aren’t Walls — They’re Hope-Filled Commitments
So many people hear the word “boundaries” and think of conflict or confrontation. But really? Boundaries are a promise to yourself:
“I will not abandon myself, even when it feels easier to.”
And that’s hopeful. Boundaries make room for relationships to be healthier, and for you to feel safer inside them. A boundary can be quiet and soft: “I’m going to step outside for a moment.” “I’m not ready to talk about that.” “I’ll stay for an hour, and then I’m heading out.” You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t need permission. You’re choosing your peace—and that’s a radically hopeful act.
You’re Allowed to Lower Your Expectations (It’s Not Giving Up)
Hope doesn’t mean pretending your family will suddenly become their best selves. Hope means trusting that you can meet whatever comes with clarity and compassion. Let the holiday be what it is—not what it “should” be, not what you wish it were, not what you’re afraid it will become. Just what it is. And in that space, you might find something small but meaningful—a kind moment with someone you didn’t expect, a quiet laugh, a sense of relief when you realize you’re handling things better than last year. Hope grows in those small places.
When Things Get Hard, You Can Step Away — Not Forever, Just Long Enough
Walking away isn’t failure; it’s wisdom. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do—for yourself and the people around you—is to pause. Take a breath. Let your system settle. Remind yourself that you are safe, you are capable, and you get to decide how you show up. Small moments of grounding can shift the entire day:
standing outside and feeling the cold air
placing your hand on your chest
texting someone who understands
focusing on the people who make you feel at ease
These tiny acts of care add up to something powerful.
You Don’t Have to Do This Alone
The holidays can feel isolating, especially when you’re navigating complicated relationships. But you don’t have to shoulder it all by yourself. Let someone safe in—before, during, or after. Share your feelings. Let them witness you. Let them remind you that you matter. And if this season brings up more than you expected, reaching out for therapeutic support isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of hope. A sign that you believe things can feel different. A sign that you’re ready for something gentler.
A Final Hope to Carry With You
You are not responsible for fixing old wounds in one night. You are not responsible for the emotional comfort of everyone in the room. And you are not defined by the hardest parts of your family. You deserve softness. You deserve safety. You deserve a holiday season where you do not lose yourself. If all you do this year is honour your limits, breathe through the hard moments, and choose yourself even once—
That is enough.
That is hope.
That is healing.
Stacey Thurman
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