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The December holiday season is often seen as a time of joy, celebration, and togetherness. For many, it's filled with festive traditions and cherished memories. But for others, the season carries a different weight - one marked by grief, loss, and a quiet sense of isolation.
I am not Christian. I do not celebrate Christmas. I lost my dad during the December holidays when I was young, and years later, I lost my stepdad during the same season. Every November, as Halloween candy disappears and Christmas decor fills the shelves, I feel a familiar pang of dread.
Grief is a quiet companion; its shadow stretches longer during times that centre family, belonging, and joy. The idea of a “happy” holiday has often felt like a kind of performance - a glossy veneer that can make loneliness even more acute. And now, as many people carry deep and layered grief, we need to make space for struggle, discomfort, and the full range of human experience, especially during a season that so often insists on joy.
This isn't about taking anything away from those who genuinely find comfort in the holidays. It's about helping others feel less alone, and finding ways to show up with care, honesty, and intention.
There are many reasons the holidays are complicated - and painful - for so many. Here is a closer look at just a few.
The trauma experienced by so many around the world is palpable. Wars, political upheavals, and humanitarian crises extend far beyond immediate conflict zones, promoting hatred, discrimination, and inequities. For some, the holidays bring connection and anticipation. For others, they bring the ongoing loss of family, friends, and communities, and a deep fear of what the future holds.
That fear is intensified by the daily noise of misinformation, media saturation, and the erosion of trust. Social media blurs fact and fiction, often amplifying fear, division, and conspiracy over connection. The constant circulation of traumatic content makes it difficult to stay grounded or hopeful, especially during a season that pressures people to feel cheerful.
Some are navigating the holidays from shelters, hospitals, or correctional facilities, or are separated from loved ones by incarceration, forced displacement, or border restrictions. These realities are rarely reflected in dominant holiday narratives, even as they reflect some of the most profound injustices of our time.
The prospect of reuniting with family can be anxiety-inducing. Families range from unsupportive but “tolerant” to openly hostile. For some, returning home means navigating judgment, microaggressions, or even violence. Misgendering, incorrect pronouns, dead names, and rejection remain far too common.
For those who have lost loved ones, the absence can feel especially stark. When the world insists on celebrating togetherness, the weight of grief can feel even heavier.
This grief is not limited to the loss of human relationships. The death of a beloved animal companion can carry a quiet, often overlooked pain. Pets shape our days, offer a steady presence, and create a sense of home. For those who live alone, are estranged, or already navigating other forms of loss, their absence can deepen the ache of the season.
The holidays can intensify the grief that comes from relationships ending - whether through breakups, estrangement, divorce, or the loss of a close friend. The end of these relationships can carry a deep, unspoken ache. And the pressure to perform joy, alongside the quiet pain of absence or rejection, can be deeply disorienting. Even smaller shifts in close relationships can feel like loss. The season often reminds us not just of who is missing, but of what could have been.
The holiday season can bring overwhelming mental, physical, and emotional stressors. Women and gender-diverse people often carry the majority of emotional labour, working to create the elusive “perfect” holiday. Social expectations can feel exhausting, especially for neurodivergent or introverted individuals.
Many people are overwhelmed by curated images, commercial messaging, and constant comparison. Parasocial relationships with influencers or public figures can create a false sense of intimacy, while real-life disconnection deepens. Despite being more digitally connected than ever, many feel more alone, unseen, or emotionally exhausted.
Sharing meals can be painful for those navigating disordered eating, body dysmorphia, or non-normative bodies. Alcohol-heavy environments can be dangerous for people in recovery. Dietary needs are often ignored. These pressures add weight to a season already filled with expectation.
Unpaid caregivers balance full-time responsibilities with little rest or recognition. Their load often increases over the holidays. Essential workers in healthcare, retail, transit, and emergency response face longer hours, higher emotional demands, and fewer opportunities to rest or connect.
For many, rising living costs and unstable employment make holiday spending a source of stress. The price of travel, gift-giving, and gatherings can be overwhelming, especially as affordability continues to decline.
Debt, housing insecurity, and food precarity do not pause for December. In many cases, they intensify. Some people skip meals, avoid gatherings, or withdraw entirely to avoid the shame of not being able to participate. Children and youth often feel the brunt of these pressures.
Beyond personal finances, the season’s heightened consumerism contributes to increased waste, environmental harm, and climate impact. These are not just holiday byproducts. They are reflections of systems that prioritize profit over sustainability, and production over care.
Many Christmas traditions - decorating trees, exchanging gifts, attending seasonal events - are framed as secular, but they remain rooted in Christianity. Their cultural dominance often overshadows other important observances like Chanukah, Kwanzaa, and Winter Solstice.
For those who do not celebrate Christmas, the season can feel alienating. Even well-intentioned attempts at inclusion often rely on surface-level gestures that fail to honour the full range of traditions and beliefs.
The holidays do not need to be “happy” in the traditional sense to hold meaning. As the gap between seasonal messaging and lived experience widens, it becomes more important to lift the veneer and acknowledge the truth: holidays are complicated, deeply personal, and sometimes painful.
By naming these realities, respecting individual needs, and decentring dominant narratives, we make more space for more experiences. Thoughtfulness, flexibility, and care can help us reimagine what celebration looks like - and who is truly included.
If you’re struggling, just know you’re not alone.
Email us at hello@feminuity.org. We may not have all the answers, but we can listen, and we will do our best to connect you with care, support, and resources that honour what you’re carrying.
This blog is not meant to be a static guide, but rather a compilation and reflection of our learnings to date. Everything changes - from technologies and innovations to social norms, cultures, languages, and more. We’ll continue to update this blog with your feedback; email us at hello@feminuity.org with suggestions.
Co-Founder and CEO
(She, Her)
If you wish to reference this work, please use the following citation: Feminuity. Saska, S. "When the Holidays Aren’t So Happy: Grief, Loss, and What We Don’t Talk About"
