Holidays Are Too Much.

The holidays are supposed to be magical.

They’re supposed to glow and sparkle and feel full—full of joy, full of connection, full of meaning. We’re told to be on all the time. To perform happiness. To create moments worthy of memory and photographs and social media posts. To spend money we don’t have on things we don’t need in order to prove our love.

And if we don’t?

If we’re tired, overwhelmed, grieving, triggered, broke, or simply empty?

Then it feels like we’re doing the holidays wrong.

There is so much pressure to fill every second of this season. Fill the calendar. Fill the house. Fill the silence. Fill ourselves until there’s no room left to breathe. We’re expected to consume—food, gifts, experiences, emotions—until exhaustion becomes the background noise of December.

For those of us carrying trauma, anxiety, or deep grief, the holidays don’t arrive softly. They crash in loud and demanding. Old memories surface. Expectations tighten around the chest. The nervous system stays braced, waiting for something to go wrong while everyone insists this is the most wonderful time of the year.

It’s exhausting to hold that contradiction.

What if the holidays don’t need more magic?

What if they need more honesty?

What if it’s okay to be quiet this year? To opt out of traditions that drain instead of nourish? To say no to gatherings that feel unsafe, to simplify meals, to skip the decorations, to let the season be smaller than advertised?

Rest is not a failure.

Not celebrating “hard enough” is not a moral flaw.

Surviving this season is enough.

Maybe the truest magic isn’t found in doing more, buying more, or forcing joy—but in protecting your nervous system. In choosing softness. In giving yourself permission to exist without performing.

If the holidays feel like too much, you are not broken.

You are listening to your body.

And that, quietly, is an act of resistance.