The holidays are sold to us like a drug. Every movie depicts the same fantasy: snow falling in slow motion, families laughing in soft lighting, long standing feuds dissolving over perfectly brewed spiked eggnog, someone having a life changing epiphany in front of a Christmas tree. You’re told that if you just show up, forgive, smile, and wear something with a bit of sparkle, the season will magically fix everything broken, heavy, or complicated in your life. But if we peak behind the curtain even just a little bit, we see they’re a collision of expectations, unresolved trauma, emotional booby traps, and people who absolutely did not become better humans just because the calendar hit December.

Most of the pain comes from one source: expectation. Expectations of you, and of others.

You’re expected to be happy, to be “on,” to have good news, to look good, to play along. You’re expected to swallow comments that would get a stranger blocked instantly. You’re expected to laugh off the jab about your love life, your career, your body, your choices. You’re expected to walk through the door glowing emotionally exfoliated and spiritually moisturized, regardless of what the last year did to you. You’re expected to suspend reality: your boundaries, your pain, your growth, your exhaustion, set them aside, please. It’s the Holidays…

And every December, a tiny, desperate part of you whispers: “Maybe this year will be different.” Maybe the person who’s never apologized will finally see their role in your pain. Maybe the sibling who always competes will drop the rivalry. Maybe your in-laws won’t make thinly veiled jokes about how much they loved your partners ex. Maybe the aunt who always takes a shot at you will magically develop boundaries. Maybe your family will notice how much you’ve grown, how much work you’ve done, and meet you there. You walk in carrying all of that quietly, like luggage, and then you’re surprised when your arms give out.

It’s the softest, most human hope. It’s also the most destructive. Because the gap between what you wish the holidays would be and what they actually are is where heartbreak happens.

Hoping your family will suddenly develop emotional intelligence is like hoping your Wi-Fi will fix itself if you just talk nicely to the modem. People do not transform in December. They intensify.

So How Do You Survive a Season That Wants a Performance, Not a Person?

You stop walking in unarmed. You stop expecting healing from people who deny their own damage. You stop expecting accountability from the emotionally unaccountable.You stop expecting softness from people who weaponize tradition. You stop expecting respect from the family peanut gallery. And you start doing the thing no one teaches you to do: Lower the bar. Not your worth. Your expectations.

The Most Liberating Holiday Truth? You May Not Get the Holiday You Deserve.

And that doesn’t make you broken. Or dramatic. Or ungrateful. It makes you aware.

Awareness is what saves you. It lets you walk in without fantasies weighing down your heart. It lets you breathe instead of brace. It lets you detach without feeling guilty. It lets you stay present without being swallowed whole.

You are allowed to prepare. You are allowed to protect yourself. And you are absolutely allowed to keep a few razor-sharp, polite-but-lethal rebuttals in your pocket for when the predictable side comments start flying. Because they will fly. And when they do? You won’t crumble. You’ll be ready.

1. “So… You’re still single?”

The classic. The opener. The Olympics of audacity.

Your responses:

• “Yes! I’m just being selective so I don’t end up on my third divorce by 45 like you, Linda.”

• ““Yes! Apparently I have great taste, so it’s taking a minute.”

• “Yep. I’d rather wait for someone great than force something average.”

• “I take commitment seriously. I won’t do it just to make everyone else more comfortable.”

Delivery tip:

Smile while you say it. Make it confusing.

2. “When are you getting married?”

As if you’re hiding a fiancé in the coat closet.

Your responses:

• “I’ve watched enough unhappy marriages at this table to know I’m not in a hurry to join the club.”

• “We’re figuring out life together first, the legal stuff can wait.”

• “You have an interesting obsession with my timeline. How’s yours going?”

• “When we’re ready, as it should be.”

• “The goal is a healthy marriage, not just a wedding”

3. “When are you having kids?”

There it is. The question that should require a waiver.

Your responses:

• “When it makes sense for my body, my life, and my bank account.”

• “Right now I’m still working on feeding myself three times a day.”

• “That’s a very personal question. I prefer not to discuss it.”

And if they push:

• “Some people have a lot going on behind the scenes. It’s safer not to assume.” That one usually shuts it down.

4. “You’ve gained weight” / “You’ve lost weight”

Your responses:

• “My body changes. That’s what bodies do.”

• “I actually feel really good, which matters more to me than the number.”

• “Probably. I stopped tracking. Have you?”

• “Honestly? I haven’t checked. Kinda proud”

No one, and I mean NO ONE has the right to comment on your body. Make that known.

5. “Are you still doing that little job of yours?”

The word “little” is doing a lot of heavy lifting here.

• “Yes, and it pays my bills and keeps me sane. I’m proud of it.”

• “Still doing it, still growing, still learning. I’ll take that over being miserable any day.”

• "yup! why? are you looking for an opportunity?"

You don’t need them to understand your work for it to be valid.

6. “You’re so sensitive.”

Translation: “I don’t like being held accountable when I say out of pocket shit that I know is mean.”

• “I’m not sensitive, I just have standards for how I’m spoken to.”

• “I’m responding normally to something that wasn’t very kind.”

• “It’s interesting that you’re more bothered by my reaction than by what was said.”

No yelling. No drama. Just calm clarity. It’s terrifying.

7. “Why are you still upset about that?”

Because God forbid you not be over something on their schedule.

• “Do you want me to fake it instead?”

• “Some things take time. I prefer to actually process them.”

• “I’m allowed to still be affected by things that mattered to me.”

You are not difficult for having emotions. You are human.

Lastly, I want to touch on something many of us feel but rarely say: the holidays don’t look the same for everyone.

Some people are at loud tables with family they love. Others are with family that drains them. Some are working long shifts, some are stuck in airports, some are smiling through an evening with their in-laws, and others are in small apartments far from home trying to make the night feel a little less quiet.

We’re all living different versions of this season, and every version is valid. Wherever you find yourself this year, I hope you get a moment,  even a small one, that feels warm and genuinely yours. Until next time x