When the Holidays aren't so Merry

For years, I dreaded the holidays. What was supposed to be the “happiest time of the year” felt more like slowly suffocating, pretending everything was fine when in reality I was gasping for air. The stress, the expectations, the forced cheer, the crushing isolation.

During the holidays, everyone is busy with their families, their celebrations, their joy. I couldn’t tell anyone what’s really going on. Who wants to hear about your nightmare when they’re busy decking the halls? The shame of not having a “happy holiday” like everyone else kept me trapped in a reality I couldn't speak of. Even when I was surrounded by others, I felt utterly alone.

Now, although I no longer live that life, this time of year still stings. I’ve rebuilt my life in so many ways, but the holidays have a way of tugging at old wounds. I’ve come to accept that healing isn’t linear, and some feelings linger longer than we’d like.

The Holidays Back Then

Back then, the months of November and December felt like a pressure cooker. I wanted everyone to be happy and no one would be happy unless things were just right. The more I tried to meet those impossible standards, the more the tension mounted. If I made the slightest mistake, there would be a price to pay- a cutting remark, a vile name hurled in my direction, and an argument that only ceased when I was too exhausted to respond anymore.

All I wanted at Christmas time was to go home to my family, to feel the warmth and familiarity of my parent's house. But that rarely happened. Financial strain, caused by his constant mismanagement of money, made it impossible to afford the trip. On the one occasion we did go, I wasn't able to fully enjoy it. I spent the entire time on edge, terrified that he’d belittle me in front of my family. He always had a knack for embarrassing me in front of the people I cared about most, as if exposing his cruelty was part of his plan. I dreaded what my family might think if they knew what he really thought of me.

The Holidays Now

Years later, things are better- so much better. I don’t live in constant anxiety anymore, I’ve got a husband who loves me, four awesome kids and a safe, peaceful home. But even now, the holidays can feel... complicated.

I still struggle with the pressure to make the holidays “magical” when, deep down, part of me just wants to skip them altogether. Sometimes, I feel guilty for not being as festive as maybe I should be. In many ways, life didn’t turn out how I thought it would. I never imagined I’d one day have to split Christmas Day with someone who spent years tearing me down, someone who thrived on making me feel small just to boost their own fragile ego.

I never thought I'd have to share my children with a person who deliberately makes life harder than it needs to be, simply because they can’t let go of the control they once had.

It’s a constant reminder of what I’ve lost: the dream of waking up every Christmas morning with my family together under one roof. Instead, that joy has become a luxury I only get to experience every other year. The holidays now come with a sense of mourning for the life I wanted, the life destroyed by someone who cared more about what they could take from me than they ever cared about me as a person.

What I’ve Learned

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s okay for the holidays to look different for me. I don’t force myself to be cheerful if I’m not. I don’t let the world’s expectations dictate how I spend my time or my money. I’ve learned the power of boundaries and protect my peace fiercely. If an invitation feels overwhelming, I say no. If a holiday shopping feels more stressful than joyful, I skip it. My well-being comes first, and I don’t apologize for that anymore.

For Anyone Struggling This Holiday Season

If you’re reading this and the holidays feel heavy for you too, please know you’re not alone. Whether you’re still in a difficult situation or navigating life after leaving one, it’s okay to feel what you feel. It’s okay to grieve what the holidays “should” be while finding your own way through them.

Take it one day at a time. Surround yourself with people who lift you up, even if it’s just one person. Give yourself permission to rest, to say no, to carve out a holiday that works for you.

Christmas morning may not always feel merry, but you’ve survived so much already. That resilience is worth celebrating, no matter what season it is.

This year, I’ll light a candle for myself- for the person I was, the person I am, and the person I’m becoming. It won’t erase the past, but it will remind me of how far I’ve come. That, to me, is worth more than any present under the tree.