Why Christmas feels hard: Finding hope in a difficult time

Everywhere you turn, Christmas is inescapable – bright lights, jingly music, endless replays of Slade, and the expectation that everyone should feel joyful and connected. Even jumpers tell us to be “Merry “ But what if you don’t? What if, instead of feeling festive, you feel anxious, lonely, or just… off? 

For many people, Christmas is complicated. It’s a time when the noise of the season can amplify grief, loneliness, or the weight of the past. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed or dreading the holidays, know this: you are not alone. And there is nothing wrong with how you feel.

The hidden struggles of Christmas

There’s a reason The Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York” strikes a chord year after year. Beneath its festive melody lies something raw – a recognition that life’s messiness doesn’t disappear just because it’s Christmas.

For some of us, the holidays bring sharp reminders of what’s missing: a loved one who isn’t there, a family that doesn’t feel safe, or the ache of feeling out of place even in a crowded room.

Maybe your childhood Christmases weren’t the cosy scenes everyone else seemed to have. Perhaps they were filled with conflict, drinking, a sense of worthlessness, or tension that made the day feel more like a test than a celebration. Or maybe Christmas was a time when love came with strings attached, leaving you feeling like no matter how much you gave, it was never enough.

One client described their childhood experience of the holidays as “walking on eggshells.” For them, Christmas meant navigating family tensions and spending the day hypervigilant, trying to anticipate everyone else’s needs. By the time the day arrived, they were already emotionally drained.

Even as adults, those early experiences stay with us. We carry the echoes into the present, whether it’s the drive to make everything perfect or the pull to withdraw entirely.

Why Christmas feels hard

There’s a reason Christmas stirs up so much pain:

•  Family dynamics: The expectation of togetherness can highlight unresolved conflicts, estrangements, or dysfunction.
• Childhood triggers: Past wounds resurface, especially when childhood Christmases felt unsafe or fraught with tension.
• Loneliness and exclusion: Even surrounded by others, the holidays can amplify feelings of isolation or being out of place.
• Grief and loss: Christmas often magnifies the absence of loved ones or the gap between what we hoped for and what we have.
• Breaking routine: For some, simply being at home for the holidays can feel destabilising. The break from the rhythm of work or daily life can leave people feeling unmoored, especially when coupled with forced interactions with family or acquaintances they’d rather avoid.

These emotions are valid. If Christmas feels heavy, it doesn’t mean you’re broken – it means you’re responding to something real. You’re human, and your experience matters.

The pressure to be perfect

Have you ever found yourself obsessing over the “perfect” Christmas? The decorations just right, the gifts carefully chosen, the meal a flawless showstopper? For some, this can feel like a way to make up for what’s missing – to prove we’re worthy of the joy and love we never felt growing up.

Perfectionism, though, often has its roots in trauma. It’s a way of saying, If I just do everything right, maybe I’ll feel enough. Maybe I’ll be lovable. Maybe I’ll be safe. But the truth is, no amount of sparkle or effort can fill a wound that needs something deeper.

If this resonates with you, it might help to ask yourself: What am I really hoping for? And what would it feel like to let something go? Sometimes, giving yourself permission to show up imperfectly brings more connection than getting it all right ever could.

When your body remembers

Trauma doesn’t take a holiday. If Christmas feels hard for you, you might notice it in your body: tension in your chest, a knot in your stomach, or exhaustion that makes the season feel like a marathon.

One client shared how their anxiety built for weeks before Christmas, spilling over into physical exhaustion and stomach pains. For others, it’s sensory overload – the lights, noise, and pressure to engage can feel overwhelming, often coupled with a sense of shame.

Your body remembers what your mind may try to bury. Those memories don’t just live in your head; they’re stored in your muscles, your breath, and your heart rate. And Christmas, with its heightened expectations, can stir them up in powerful ways.

This is why it’s so important to find a part of yourself that can care for you. To try to give yourself space, time, and awareness of what you feel – even though that can be hard.

Owning your own Christmas

For many, Christmas feels like an obligation – to meet others’ expectations, to show up in ways that feel inauthentic, or to put on a brave face. I felt that too.

For years, I tried to fit into other people’s ideas of Christmas, and every year, I felt lonelier. Eventually, I decided to stop. Instead of trying to squeeze into traditions that didn’t feel right, I started creating my own.

At first, it was something small: walks in the country, soaking up the quiet stillness and letting go of the pressure to be anywhere else. Over time, I explored what felt meaningful for me. For some years, that’s been volunteering. Other years, it’s remembering someone I’ve lost or just spending the day with a good film or book.

If the idea of Christmas feels overwhelming, ask yourself: What would it look like to make it yours? It doesn’t have to be big or flashy. Maybe it’s watching a favourite film, skipping the family dinner, or even taking a long walk in the park. Whatever feels right for you is enough.

A new way to see Christmas

For some of us, Christmas feels less like a serene festive postcard and more like Die Hard – chaotic, unpredictable, and full of moments where you’re just trying together - or even what to scream!  

For others, it might feel like The Muppet Christmas Carol – surrounded by quirky characters, good intentions (that sometimes go wrong), and a lot of moments where you wonder if anyone actually knows what they’re doing.

And yet, there’s something comforting in that. It reminds us that Christmas doesn’t have to be perfect to hold meaning – and neither do we. The magic of the season doesn’t come from getting everything right or from the past; it comes from embracing the imperfections, the quirks, and the moments of kindness, however small.

For those of us who grew up with Christmases that didn’t feel safe, joyful, or nurturing, it’s easy to feel like the weight of those memories defines what the season has to be. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. Trauma shapes us, but it doesn’t have to own us.

Reclaiming Christmas isn’t about forgetting the past or pretending it didn’t hurt – it’s about making space for yourself now. It’s about saying, “This year, I’m choosing what feels right for me,” whether that’s a quiet day of rest, a walk in the park, or starting a new tradition that brings a flicker of light to the season.

Christmas doesn’t have to look one way. It doesn’t even have to be joyful. It can simply be yours – a season of doing what you need most, whether that’s healing, resting, or just getting through.

And in choosing what feels right for you, you’re reclaiming a sense of safety, light, and hope that belongs to you and no one else.

Your story, no matter how painful, is part of who you are – but it doesn’t have to define what Christmas means for you. As The Pogues remind us, life is messy, and the holidays don’t magically fix that. But within the mess, there’s room for resilience, love, and maybe even a flicker of hope.