Return of hope: social health, holidays, and doing this season your way
Nov 9, 2025
Every year, as the holidays approach, I notice three broad “groups” of people:
People who genuinely like this season. They’ve figured out rhythms and boundaries that work for them, and the holidays feel like a chance to slow down and be with people they love.
People who experience holidays as more burden than celebration. They feel crushed by expectations, traditions, travel, spending, and family dynamics that don’t actually match their values.
People who don’t really have anyone to spend the holidays with – or don’t feel emotionally safe with the people they technically could see.
All three experiences are valid. And all three are deeply connected to something we don’t talk about enough:
Social health.
Social health is right up there with physical and mental health in terms of how much it affects our lives. It shapes how safe we feel, whether we belong somewhere, how we handle stress, and how hopeful we feel about the future.
The holidays magnify whatever is already going on in our social health – the good and the painful. Which means we can’t talk about “holiday wellness” without talking about boundaries, loneliness, values, community, and what holidays even mean to us as adults.
Performing joy vs actually feeling joy
A lot of us were taught to perform joy.
Show up with the right outfit.
Bring the perfect dish.
Smile, chat, be “on,” don’t rock the boat.
Ignore the tension at the table, the snide comments, the internal dread.
On the outside, everything looks festive. On the inside, your nervous system is exhausted.
Performing joy is not the same thing as feeling joy.
Performing connection is not the same thing as being deeply connected.
Social health asks a different set of questions:
Do I feel psychologically safe with these people?
Do my values and theirs overlap enough that I can relax?
Do I leave this gathering feeling more myself, or less?
Am I allowed to show up as I am, or do I have to twist myself into a version they’ll accept?
If you’ve never stopped to ask these questions, holidays are a confronting place to start. But they’re also a powerful place to experiment.
Alone time vs loneliness: your body as a feedback tool
We also need to separate alone time from loneliness.
Craving alone time is usually about needing rest and restoration.
Craving people – and feeling like you can’t access them – is loneliness.
Alone time says: “I need to recharge and hear my own thoughts.”
Loneliness says: “I need connection and belonging, and I’m not getting it.”
Both are valid. Both show up in the body.
If you’re dreading gatherings, notice what your body is telling you:
Is your jaw clenched thinking about that dinner?
Do your shoulders creep up toward your ears when you imagine certain conversations?
Do you feel drained after interactions that are supposed to be “fun”?
That’s information.
Your body is not dramatic; it’s data.
Over time, learning your own signals helps you understand when you need solitude, when you need support, and when you need different boundaries.
Boundaries as kindness and clarity
“Boundaries” gets framed as building walls, cutting people off, or being “difficult.”
I see boundaries as kindness and clarity:
Kindness to yourself: “This is what I need to stay mentally and physically well.”
Clarity to others: “Here’s what works for me and what doesn’t.”
That can look like very simple, very human sentences:
“This doesn’t work for me this year, but thank you for thinking of me.”
“I’d love to see you, but I can only stay for two hours.”
“Can we agree to skip politics at the table this year? I’d like to protect our time together.”
In families and communities that genuinely care, those boundaries are often possible – even if they feel awkward at first.
They also protect relationships from long-term resentment. When you keep forcing yourself into situations that feel toxic or misaligned, resentment quietly builds. Boundaries bring that misalignment into the open where something can actually change.
Redefining traditions: the “what, how, and who”
Holidays are often treated as fixed:
You eat this. You do it this way. You see these people.
But if we zoom out historically, winter holidays were originally about something much simpler and deeper: the return of light and hope.
People didn’t understand astronomy, but they understood fear. The days got darker, colder, and more uncertain. Winter solstice – the moment when the light begins to return – was a powerful symbol of “we made it this far, and the sun is coming back.”
Somewhere along the way, we added layers: expectations, performances, travel, spending, comparison, social media.
Social health invites us to re-examine our holidays through three questions:
What are we doing?
Do we actually enjoy these activities, or are we stuck in “we’ve always done it this way”?
Does the massive meal matter to us, or could a simpler shared experience feel more connecting?
How are we doing it?
Are we doing everything ourselves to “be a good host,” or letting others share the load?
Are we cramming every event, brunch, and show into the calendar because we’re afraid of missing out?
Who are we doing it with?
Are these relationships nourishing, neutral, or actively harmful?
Are we open to creating “chosen family” where our values and safety are aligned?
When the group itself is not safe or aligned
Sometimes the problem isn’t the menu or the political conversations.
Sometimes the problem is the group itself.
If every year you:
brace yourself for criticism or emotional attacks
leave feeling small, ashamed, or invisible
spend weeks recovering emotionally
…it might be time to ask some very hard questions.
We are heavily conditioned to believe we must stay close to our family of origin no matter what. But in modern life, we’re also allowed to:
Notice when a group is consistently toxic.
Step back, even if that group is “family.”
Invest our limited time and energy into relationships that are safer and more aligned.
That might mean spending a holiday with friends who feel more like family.
It might mean a smaller gathering with one or two people who actually see you.
It might even mean opting out of holidays for a year while you figure out what they mean to you as an adult.
Is this easy? Absolutely not.
But biting the same miserable bullet every year is also not easy. Sometimes there’s a one-time, much harder “bullet” that creates the possibility of joy and peace in the years ahead.
Loneliness: starting from zero and looking out for each other
There’s another group we cannot ignore: people who are truly alone.
Maybe they’re estranged from family.
Maybe they recently lost a partner.
Maybe they relocated and haven’t found their people yet.
Maybe they’re surrounded by people but don’t feel understood by any of them.
Holiday loneliness can be crushing.
It doesn’t mean anything is “wrong” with you – it means your very human need for connection isn’t being met.
If you’re in this place, some realistic starting points:
Follow your interests: join a group built around something you care about (sports club, walking group, crafting, book club, community choir, climbing gym, gaming group).
Consider volunteering, especially around the holidays. Helping at a shelter, food bank, or local event can be a gentle way to meet people while doing something meaningful.
If in-person feels overwhelming, look for online spaces that are moderated and values-aligned.
If you’re not currently lonely, this is your invitation to look around:
The neighbor who lost a spouse.
The colleague who always “has plans” but seems withdrawn.
The friend who jokes about being fine alone but avoids talking about their plans.
A simple “Hey, how are you holding up with the holidays?” or an invitation can make a bigger difference than you think.
Social health as community practice
Social health isn’t a solo project.
It’s:
How we show up for ourselves with honesty and values.
How we show up for others with curiosity and care.
How we design traditions that are sustainable for our nervous systems, not just impressive on Instagram.
There is no “perfect” way to do the holidays.
But if what you want is peace, that is very attainable.
You can:
Prioritize fewer but more meaningful gatherings.
Choose rest over performance when your body is begging for it.
Redesign traditions so they feel like a return of hope, not a seasonal exam you’re destined to fail.
Take one small step toward connection if you’re lonely – or one small step toward support if you’re overwhelmed.
A gentle invitation
If this season is complicated for you, you’re not broken.
You’re a human living in a culture that’s confused about what holidays are actually for.
Start with one question:
What do I need to feel more like myself this season?
Let your answer be small, honest, and specific.
Then see what one tiny action you can take in that direction.
Let’s use this season not to chase perfection, but to quietly rebuild connection – with ourselves, with each other, and with that small, stubborn return of hope.