When the Holidays Hurt
Finding Hope in the Hardest Season
You made it through Thanksgiving. Maybe it went better than you feared. Maybe it was worse. Either way, you’re looking ahead at Christmas, New Year’s, all those gatherings and traditions stretched across the next month, and you’re not sure you can do this.
The holidays are supposed to be joyful. That’s what every commercial tells you, what every Instagram post reminds you, what every cheerful neighbor seems to embody. But when your marriage is in crisis, the holidays don’t feel joyful. They feel like navigating a minefield while everyone around you is having a party.
I know. Because I’ve sat with hundreds of people in your position, watching them try to hold it together through “the most wonderful time of the year” while their hearts are breaking.
Why the Holidays Hurt So Much
Here’s what makes this season particularly brutal when you’re in marriage crisis: we compress an entire year’s worth of hopes and expectations into a handful of moments. That one dinner. That one morning. That one week with family.
The rest of the year, we can tell ourselves that things will get better, that we’ll figure it out eventually, that there’s time. But the holidays? The holidays demand happiness now. They require togetherness now. They promise magic now.
And when that magic doesn’t materialize, when that togetherness feels forced or absent entirely, the disappointment cuts deeper than it does any other time of year.
But there’s more to it than just unmet expectations.
Grief Upon Grief Upon Grief
Here’s something I’ve noticed in my years of practice: grief has layers. We don’t ever quite finish grieving our losses. If you’ve been to a funeral, you’ve probably noticed people talking about other funerals, other losses. That’s because grief touches all our losses, not just the immediate one.
When you’re in a marriage crisis during the holidays, you’re not just grieving what’s happening right now. You’re grieving:
The relationship you thought you had
The traditions you used to share
The family moments you’re missing
The future you imagined
All the previous disappointments that this season brings back to the surface
That’s why this hurts so much. You’re not carrying one grief. You’re carrying grief upon grief upon grief.
The Missing Pieces
And then there are the missing traditions. Maybe this year, one parent is doing Christmas morning while the other gets Christmas evening. Maybe the tree decorating happened without you, or didn’t happen at all. Maybe the trip to see the lights, the special dinner, the gift shopping together… maybe all of that is just... gone.
These might seem like small things. Just pieces of life, right?
But they’re not small. They’re the texture of your life together. And when they’re missing, you’re not just missing an event. You’re missing the feeling of that event, the sense of being part of something, the comfort of tradition. You’re losing what’s been there, and that loss has its own gravity.
There’s also the missing time — time with kids who are now splitting holidays between homes, time with extended family you’ve known for years, time with your spouse at events you used to attend together. Every “missing” is another small cut, another reminder that things are not as they were.
Surrounded by Happy Families (Or So It Seems)
And all of this happens while you’re absolutely inundated with images of happy families.
Turn on the TV: happy families. Scroll through social media: happy families. Walk through the neighborhood: decorations and gatherings that seem to radiate joy. Drive past restaurants: families laughing over dinner. Every Hallmark movie, every holiday commercial, every Christmas card in your mailbox reminds you of what you don’t have.
We tend to forget what happens behind closed doors in other families. We only focus on what’s missing in our own. And that comparison makes the pain even sharper.
So yes. The holidays are hard when your marriage is in crisis. Anyone who tells you otherwise hasn’t been where you are.
But Here’s What I Also Know
The holidays bring something else too. Something you might not be able to see yet, but it’s there.
The holidays create opportunities for connection that don’t exist at other times of year.
I know that might sound like empty optimism right now, especially if you’re in the thick of the pain. But stay with me for a moment.
Think about the nature of this season. There’s an openness that appears during the holidays, a willingness to set aside conflicts “for the sake of the season” or “for the kids” or “because it’s tradition.” Events happen that bring people together, like school programs, family gatherings, annual traditions. And there’s often a tacit agreement to make them work, even when things are strained.
Your spouse who might resist doing anything together the rest of the year? They might show up for the kids’ Christmas program. They might agree to the family dinner. They might participate in that tradition you’ve done every year because... well, because it’s what you do at the holidays.
Those moments matter. Not because they’ll magically fix everything, but because they’re openings. Chances for a different kind of interaction than you’ve been having.
Why? Well….
The Halo Effect
There’s a phenomenon psychologists call the halo effect. When we have a positive experience with someone, that warmth tends to color how we see them, even if the positive experience itself wasn’t directly about them.
If you go to an event together and it’s genuinely enjoyable — the music is beautiful, the atmosphere is warm, the memories are stirred — some of that warmth rubs off. It can make connecting feel easier, more natural, less weighted with all the conflict and pain.
This is especially true with traditions and memories. When you return to something you’ve done together for years, it brings back those earlier feelings. The human mind has this remarkable capacity to temporarily set aside the painful recent history and access the warmer memories. Just for a moment. Just enough to create an opening.
I’m not suggesting you manipulate this or depend on it to save your marriage. But I am saying that, if there are events that could create these moments, don’t automatically avoid them because you’re protecting yourself from pain. Sometimes the opportunity for connection is worth the risk of discomfort.
Holy Days
Here’s something we forget because we say the word so often it loses meaning: holiday is just a shortened version of “holy day.”
These aren’t just days off work or occasions for shopping. They’re meant to be holy — set apart, meaningful, sacred in some way. Whether you’re religious or not, whether you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Winter Solstice or simply the turning of the year, there’s something deeper available here than stress and obligations.
The spiritual significance of this season, across nearly every tradition, centers on themes of light coming into darkness, hope being born in difficult times, renewal, and new beginnings. Something new is coming into the world. Something that wasn’t here before.
What if you let that be true for you? Not for your marriage necessarily, but for you.
What if you used this season to let something feed your soul, to find something that nurtures you at a level deeper than the daily struggle? Maybe that’s attending a candlelight service, or sitting with meaningful music, or finding solace in nature during the winter darkness, or connecting with the religious roots of your tradition in a way you haven’t in years.
This season offers something for your heart and soul if you’re willing to look for it. And you need that nourishment. You need places where you can be filled up, because you’ve been depleted by the effort of holding your marriage and yourself together.
Five Practices for This Season
So you’re facing the rest of the holidays. You have both the hurt and the potential. The grief and the opportunity. The missing pieces and the unexpected openings.
Here are five practices that can help you navigate what’s ahead:
1. Don’t Lead with Grief — Lead with Meaning
Your grief is real. Your pain is valid. I’m not asking you to suppress it or pretend it’s not there.
But here’s what I’ve watched happen again and again: people try to connect with their spouse during the holidays, and they lead with their grief. They lead with how unfair it is, how much it hurts, how different everything is, how painful this season has become.
And their spouse hears it as blame, or pressure, or a reminder of failure. It creates defensiveness instead of connection.
Instead, lead with meaning. Lead with what this season represents beyond your pain. “I’d really like us to take the kids to see the lights because I think they’ll remember that” is different from “It’s so unfair that we can’t do this like a normal family.”
“This tradition has meant something to our family for ten years, and I’d like to keep it going” is different from “I can’t believe you’re willing to just throw away everything we built.”
Same desire, same request even. But one invites participation and the other invites resistance.
Leading with meaning doesn’t erase your grief. But it creates space for something other than pain to exist in the conversation.
2. Don’t Push. Invite
This is connected to the first practice, but distinct enough that it needs its own attention.
So much of what creates disconnection in struggling marriages is the energy of pushing. Pushing for change, pushing for connection, pushing for the other person to show up differently. And pushing creates an equal and opposite force. It creates resistance.
During the holidays, you’ll have chances to invite your spouse into experiences, traditions, events. Make them invitations, not demands. Make them about possibility, not obligation.
“I’m planning to take the kids to the tree lighting downtown on Saturday. I’d really like it if you came with us, but I understand if you can’t” is an invitation.
“You need to be there for the tree lighting because the kids expect both parents” is a push.
One allows your spouse to choose. One tries to force through guilt or pressure. And even if the push “works,” it doesn’t create the connection you’re actually hoping for.
Invite. Point to why you’d like something. Paint the picture of what it could mean. Then let it be a choice.
3. Refill Your Heart and Soul
I mentioned this earlier, but it deserves its own practice: you need to actively seek renewal during this season.
Many people in marriage crisis feel completely depleted by the time the holidays arrive. They’ve been working so hard on their relationship, managing their own pain, trying to keep things together. There’s nothing left.
This season offers you permission to step back and let something refill you. A concert that moves you. A worship service that feeds you spiritually. A quiet morning watching the sunrise. A meaningful conversation with a friend. A book that speaks to your situation. Time in nature that reminds you of something larger than your immediate pain.
Look for those moments. Plan for them. They’re not indulgent or selfish. They’re necessary. You can’t continue to pour from an empty vessel, and you can’t be present for any opportunities for connection if you’re running on fumes.
The holy day aspect of this season is meant to nurture you. Let it.
4. Practice Fierce Self-Care
Here’s what I see happen every December: people stop sleeping well because they’re busy running around to everything. They stop exercising because there’s too much to do. They stop eating well because there are so many rich foods and treats available. They overload their calendars trying to do everything, say yes to everyone, be everywhere.
And then they wonder why they feel terrible, why they have no resilience, why small things set them off.
Your body is your most important tool for getting through this season. Treat it accordingly.
Keep sleeping. Keep exercising, even if it’s just a twenty-minute walk. Keep nourishing yourself with good food alongside whatever treats you enjoy. And regulate your calendar. You don’t have to attend everything. Pick and choose what actually serves you and what you’re doing out of obligation or habit or fear of disappointing someone.
This is especially important when you’re already carrying the stress of a marriage in crisis. You cannot afford to let your physical foundation crumble. The emotional work you’re doing requires strength, and strength requires care.
5. Be of Service and Purpose
Finally, look for ways to be of service during this season.
If you can be of service in your marriage — showing up well at events, leading with meaning, creating space for connection — do that. But if that’s not available to you right now, or if it’s too depleted to be where you focus, find somewhere else to serve.
I had a client once who told me how unbearably lonely the holidays were. When I asked if he’d tried volunteering somewhere, like serving at a shelter, helping with a food drive, anything where he could be useful to someone else… he said no. He was going to be with family, so what would be the point?
I suggested that maybe loneliness is partly a choice about where we place our attention. Not that the feeling isn’t real, but that we have some say in whether we focus inward on what we’re missing or outward on where we can give.
He served Thanksgiving dinner at a homeless shelter. He’s planning to work at another shelter on Christmas Eve. And he told me recently that he’s discovering something: when he’s being useful to others, when he’s focused on purpose rather than his pain, he feels less lonely. Not because his situation has changed, but because he’s engaged with something beyond himself.
You can be of service and purpose wherever you are. In your relationship, if that’s available. In your community, if it’s not. The question is just whether you’re looking for those opportunities and acting toward them.
Both/And
So here’s where we are. The holidays hurt when your marriage is in crisis. That’s simply true. The grief is real, the missing pieces are real, the difficulty of navigating this season while surrounded by images of happy families is real.
And the holidays also bring unique opportunities for connection, for renewal, for meaning. Those are real too.
You don’t have to choose between acknowledging the hurt and reaching for the hope. You can hold both. In fact, you have to hold both if you’re going to get through this season in a way that serves you and your relationship.
Don’t let the grief block you from seeing the openings that appear. But also don’t try to force yourself into artificial cheerfulness that ignores what you’re actually feeling.
Lead with meaning, but acknowledge your pain. Invite connection, but protect your reserves. Seek renewal, but practice fierce self-care. Be of service, but don’t deplete yourself.
This season asks a lot of you. More than it asks of people whose marriages aren’t in crisis. That’s the reality.
But it also offers you something. Moments where connection becomes easier. Traditions that carry their own warmth. Holy days that can feed your soul. Opportunities to be useful and purposeful. Chances to remember who you want to be, separate from all the struggle and pain.
You have weeks ahead of you still. Christmas. New Year’s. All the events and gatherings and moments in between.
You can do this. Not perfectly. Not without pain. But you can navigate this season in a way that honors both the difficulty and the possibility.
Both are true. Both deserve your attention.
And on the other side of January, you’ll be able to look back and know that you showed up the best way you could, that you didn’t miss the opportunities because grief overwhelmed you, and that you didn’t ignore your pain in service of false cheer.
That’s enough. That’s more than enough.
You’re going to make it through.
If you’re looking for more structured support through this season and beyond, the Save The Marriage System offers the framework and tools for working on your relationship, even when you’re working alone. And if you want to understand why marriages reach crisis points and how those patterns develop, my book Marriage Fail Point examines the central reasons relationships falter and the specific moments where intervention makes the most difference.