Is That a Yule Log on the Fire, or the World Going up in Flames?

Just when we thought the doomscrolling couldn’t get worse, the 2023 holiday edition came out: Now horrific social media and news posts are interspersed with influencers showing off holiday decor, ads for items we must buy, and heavily filtered family moments. For those of us feeling nostalgic, posts about Covid occasionally enter the mix. 

When it all got to be too much for me this recent Thanksgiving break, I did the same thing millions of other anxious individuals likely did: I set down my phone and started to clean. 

It really felt like a holiday miracle: After 40+ years of being simply “tidy,” I discovered the joy of deep cleaning. The meditative act of watching dirty water flow up from my carpets and into my new Bissell vacuum – a Black Friday purchase – brought such relief and satisfaction, I cleaned every rug twice. 

Given all that's happening in the world, this clichéd response isn’t surprising, says Dawn Potter, a psychologist at Cleveland Clinic. “Right now, there are a lot of stressful things going on all around us that we can’t control,” she says. “But we can control how clean our carpets are, and doing so can restore a sense of order and calm.”

With a yearslong pandemic barely in the rearview, horrifying conflicts happening all around the globe, and big dips in morale related to job satisfaction, inflation, and more, life is feeling chaotic and dark for a lot of us. With the pressure-laden holiday season at its peak, the collective mood might be described as less holly-jolly and more stressed, frantic, and sad.

“We’re told that the holidays are all hope and joy – but it’s never just that,” says Debra Umberson, Ph.D., a professor of sociology at the University of Texas at Austin. “This time of year, there are a lot of expectations that are hard to meet.”

Oh, the expectations. According to a 2021 poll conducted by the American Psychiatric Association, more than 40 percent of people say their stress levels go up during the holiday season, thanks largely to the pressure of finding holiday gifts (and affording them) and spending time with family members (or missing ones we can’t see). There’s also hectic holiday travel, political discussions over dinner, getting time off work, and relationship strains, plus squeezing extra shopping, decorating, card writing, and cleaning into an already packed schedule.

For people who have experienced hardship or violence around the holidays, or are spending their first season without a loved one, there are additional fraught emotions to grapple with, says Kendra Guthrie, executive Director of Humble Warrior Collective, an Oklahoma non-profit that brings meditation and yoga to domestic violence shelters.

When I reflect on all this, I feel extremely lucky. I’m comfortably housed, my family is close (geographically and relationally), and we take a low-pressure approach to the holidays. And yet, with the “most wonderful time of the year” coinciding with so much worldwide turmoil, I can’t muster the motivation to do much of anything.

Which is a bummer, because weeks ago I started thinking about hosting a fancy holiday party. I ordered tuxedos for my dogs – because what better way to convey a festive spirit?! – and had lights strung up outside my house. But with the imagined date less than two weeks away, no invites have been sent, no presents have been purchased, and my punny holiday cards – which I usually art-direct months in advance – haven’t been staged.

This sort of ambivalence is another response to trauma and stress – one many of us settled into during the darkness and uncertainty surrounding Covid and either haven’t shaken yet, or have been pulled back into by current events. 

And while “doing nothing” may sound harmless – whether borne of apathy or overwhelm – one concern about seasonal and situational tensions coinciding is that people may be more likely to remain solitary, rather than connect with others. If your family dynamics are tricky, or you can’t afford the presents you want to give, or you recently lost a loved one, you may especially want to sit things out this year. But that might not be the best call.

“Simply being in the presence of other people is good, physiologically,” says Umberson, who adds that she’s been accepting more invitations this season after losing close family in recent years. “Sharing a sense of connection and love is nurturing and healing during times of stress and loss – whether the loss is symbolic, or a death in your immediate family, or trauma within your community. There’s this impulse to isolate, but getting together brings on a sense of solidarity – that you’re not in this alone.”

This isn’t to say you should put yourself in a situation that is uncomfortable or dangerous. But going to the office holiday party, having an intentional coffee with a friend, or attending a big family dinner – being sure to steer clear of that one inflammatory uncle – are all ways to enjoy the support the season is meant to deliver.

If your impulse to disengage is more so due to the inequities of the world, with a bit of forethought, seasonal get-togethers and rituals can be both sensitive and celebratory.

“In times like these, people can feel almost a survivor’s guilt,” says Potter, the psychologist at Cleveland Clinic. “They feel bad about enjoying themselves when other people are having a hard time. But your suffering or not suffering doesn’t impact anyone else. So, if you’re feeling distressed about what’s going on in the world, ask how you could give your actions more meaning.”

A holiday party could feature a canned food drive. Dinner with friends could end with a generous tip for your server. Your family could eschew presents and instead spend time together volunteering. You could take home a foster animal for the holiday… then keep it!

If your typical holiday traditions feel wrong, don’t be afraid to reimagine them in ways big and small. 

Doing so has made the winter holidays more enjoyable for Rebecca Renfrow Wilder, a mindfulness practitioner and licensed mental health counselor in Seattle, Washington. “I’ve been connecting with what’s actually meaningful to me in these holiday times, rather than just doing what has been handed down to me,” says Renfrow Wilder. “I celebrate what I want to celebrate.”

That means marking the winter solstice, the longest night of the year and the return of longer days, which she says embodies “both-and” thinking – that there can be oppressive darkness and the promise of brighter times ahead.

Forging your own path requires connecting with what’s relevant to you, she says. “Be in real engagement with what you need – then consider what action moves you toward this.”

For me, this felt a little heady to contemplate. But shortly after we hung up, I was reminded of a simple exercise suggested by Guthrie, whose work includes leading trauma-informed meditation and yoga classes for kids: “Sit somewhere warm and cozy and think about the word ‘joy,’” Guthrie had said. “Is it a color? Is it a smell? Is it written in a certain font? How has it changed for you over the years? Get down to a visceral level and imagine the embodiment of ‘joy,’ including how to create more of it moving forward.”

I closed my eyes, and immediately a golden, sparkly cursive “joy” popped up onto the blank screen of my brain. It had a soundtrack of laughter, and revelry, and cheer.

This vision felt a little on-the-nose. But during the exercise, I remembered that ever since Covid began, I’ve been stockpiling holiday napkins with the hope that one day I would gather everyone I like and love for a night of festivities, warmth, and connection. That’s three years of a deferred dream. As I pictured the big event, I got a little misty, though I’m not sure if they were tears of joy, or sadness, or relief.

So, as soon as I finish writing this, I’m going to send out invites, find those unopened napkins, and do a dress-run by putting my dogs in their tuxedos and snapping a holiday card pic. In a couple of weeks, I’ll host a party that is also a food drive to acknowledge the blending of good times and bad. And as I gather my family and friends, I’ll check in with them each to make sure they, too, are getting what they need this holiday season.

I may shampoo the rugs once more in preparation. But if I don’t find the time to do that – and if I let slide any of the other nagging but nonessential items on my holiday to-do-list – I won’t sweat it. Because chances are no one else will even notice, and I can suddenly think of better ways to find joy this season.