You Don’t Have to Go Home for the Holidays—Signed, a Therapist

It's mid-November and your phone buzzes. It's your mom asking if you'll be home for Thanksgiving. Your stomach drops. You stare at the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, anxiety building in your chest.

The thought of sitting at that table again—pretending everything's fine while your uncle makes "jokes" that aren't jokes, while your parents dismiss your concerns, while you bite your tongue through dessert—feels unbearable. But the guilt of not going? That feels unbearable too.

You tell yourself you're overreacting. That family is family. That it's just one day.

But here's what I want you to know: you're not overreacting, and you don't have to go.

Let's get straight to it: the holidays can be a lot. And for many of us, they're not just about dodging Aunt Susan's "Why are you still single?" questions or pretending to like Grandma's fruitcake. They're about sitting in a room with people whose votes, beliefs, or behaviors have essentially said, "Your rights don't matter" or "Your pain isn't real." It's about knowing that your very existence—or the existence of people you love—is up for debate in their eyes.

If you're grappling with whether to see your family this holiday season, I want to tell you something that might feel radical: You don't have to go.

Why Skipping the Holidays Feels So Hard

The weight of family obligation.

I know skipping family gatherings can feel heavy—like you're breaking some sacred tradition or shirking an unspoken obligation. From the time we're young, many of us are taught that family is everything, that blood is thicker than water, that you should always show up no matter what.

These messages create a powerful sense of duty that can feel impossible to shake. Even when your family makes you feel unsafe, disrespected, or invisible, the guilt of not attending can feel crushing.

You're grieving what you wish your family could be.

Part of what makes this decision so painful is that you're not just deciding whether to skip a meal. You're confronting the gap between the family you hoped for and the family you actually have. You're grieving the fantasy that this year might be different, that they might finally see you, that the holidays could feel warm and safe instead of tense and exhausting.

That grief is real and it deserves space.

Society tells you you're wrong for setting boundaries.

We live in a culture that glorifies "keeping the peace" and "family unity" above individual wellbeing. Movies, TV shows, and holiday ads all push the same narrative: families belong together during the holidays, and if yours doesn't feel good, you just need to try harder or forgive more.

This messaging makes it easy to believe that you're the problem for not being able to make it work. You're not. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is step away.

When Political Differences Aren't Just "Differences"

Let me be crystal clear about something: you don't have to take political differences lightly when those "differences" are about your fundamental humanity.

If your family voted for policies that strip away your rights, deny your identity, or harm communities you care about, that's not a minor disagreement about tax policy. That's about values, humanity, and whether or not your loved ones believe you—or the people you love—deserve basic rights and dignity.

So if you're feeling betrayed, angry, or like you can't keep pretending it's all fine over mashed potatoes, those feelings are valid. You're not being "too sensitive" or "overreacting" or "making everything about politics."

You're responding to something real and painful. You're recognizing that your family's choices have consequences that affect real people—including you.

The invisible labor of keeping the peace.

For many people, especially women and people-pleasers, going home for the holidays means taking on the emotional labor of managing everyone else's comfort. You're the one biting your tongue, changing the subject, laughing at inappropriate jokes, or absorbing someone else's anger to keep things calm.

This labor is exhausting. And you don't owe it to anyone.

Your Rage, Grief, and Boundaries Are All Valid

As a feminist therapist (and someone who is also incredibly over the patriarchy's nonsense, thank you very much), I want you to know that your rage is valid. Your sadness is valid. Your exhaustion is valid. Your choice to protect your peace is valid.

Now, does this mean ditching the family gathering is easy? No. You might feel grief over missing what could have been—or guilt for stepping away from what's expected of you. That's okay, too. Grieving the loss of the family dynamic you hoped for is part of the process.

But here's the thing: choosing not to attend isn't a failure. It's an act of self-respect.

Protecting your mental health isn't selfish. It's necessary.

How to Decide: A Therapist-Approved Checklist

If you're feeling unsure about what to do, work through these questions honestly:

1. Check in with yourself: How does your body respond?

Close your eyes and picture going to this gathering. Notice what happens in your body. Do you feel:

• Tension in your shoulders or jaw?

• A knot in your stomach?

• A sense of dread or heaviness?

• Anxiety or panic?

Your body often knows before your mind does. If picturing the gathering creates a stress response, that's valuable information.

2. Ask: What would I need to feel safe and respected there?

Make a list of what you would need to feel okay attending. This might include:

• No political discussions

• An apology for past harm

• Respect for your boundaries and identity

• The ability to leave early without guilt

• Someone there who supports you

Now ask: Are those needs realistic in this space? If the answer is no, you have valuable clarity.

3. Consider: What's the cost of going vs. not going?

Cost of going:

• Emotional exhaustion

• Stress and anxiety before, during, and after

• Feeling dismissed, disrespected, or invisible

• Days or weeks of recovery time

• Reinforcing unhealthy patterns

Cost of not going:

• Guilt (which will fade)

• Possible family conflict or disappointment

• Grief over the relationship you wish you had

• Breaking from tradition

Which costs are you more willing—and able—to bear?

4. Give yourself permission to prioritize your peace.

Ask yourself: "If I weren't worried about anyone else's reaction, what would I want to do?"

The answer to that question matters. Because here's the truth: no one else is going to prioritize your wellbeing for you. That's your job.

What to Do Instead: Reimagining the Holidays

If you decide not to go, you're not alone in that choice. And you're not condemned to a sad, lonely holiday. Let's reimagine what the holidays could look like when you're not forcing yourself into spaces that hurt you.

Gather with your chosen family.

Friends, partners, coworkers who get it, neighbors who are also skipping family dinners—create your own celebration with people who truly see and value you. A potluck, a cozy movie marathon, or even a virtual hangout can be just as meaningful (and often way more fun).

Your chosen family counts. These relationships deserve to be celebrated.

Do something restorative for yourself.

Imagine: a quiet day filled with your favorite books, a luxurious bubble bath, sleeping in without an alarm, binging that show you've been meaning to watch, going for a long walk, or doing absolutely nothing at all.

Rest isn't just okay—it's revolutionary in a world that demands constant productivity and performance.

Channel your energy into something meaningful.

Volunteering with a local mutual aid group, shelter, or food bank can be a powerful way to reconnect with your values and feel a sense of community. Plus, it's a reminder that you're not alone in this and that your energy can support something life-giving rather than life-draining.

Create new rituals that feel authentic to you.

Mark the season in a way that feels meaningful to you. Light candles, write down intentions for the coming year, reflect on what you're grateful for and what you want to release, cook your favorite meal, or start a tradition that aligns with your values.

Even small rituals can help create a sense of grounding and hope. You get to define what the holidays mean for you.

How to Communicate Your Decision

If you've decided not to attend, you might be wondering how to tell your family. Here are some approaches:

The direct approach:

"I won't be able to make it this year. I'm taking some time for myself."

The boundary-setting approach:

"I need to take care of my mental health right now, and that means I won't be attending family gatherings for the time being."

The values-based approach:

"Given some of the tensions and differences in our family, I don't think the holidays are the right time for me to visit. I need to honor what feels right for me."

You don't owe anyone a detailed explanation. If they push back, you can repeat your boundary: "I understand this is disappointing. I've made the decision that's best for me."

Managing the Guilt and Grief

Even when you know you're making the right choice, guilt and grief can still show up. Here's how to navigate them:

Remind yourself why you made this choice.

Keep a list of the reasons you decided not to go—specific memories, feelings, or patterns that made this decision necessary. When guilt creeps in, revisit this list.

Allow yourself to grieve.

It's okay to be sad about missing the holidays you wish you could have. That grief doesn't mean you made the wrong choice—it means you're mourning something real.

Practice self-compassion.

Talk to yourself the way you'd talk to a friend in this situation. You wouldn't tell them they're a bad person for protecting themselves. Don't tell yourself that either.

Lean on your support system.

Connect with friends, a therapist, or community members who understand and validate your choice. You don't have to process this alone.

You're Not Alone in This Choice

Countless people are making the same decision you are—to prioritize their safety, dignity, and peace over tradition and obligation. You're not dramatic. You're not weak. You're not failing.

You're honoring yourself in a world that has taught you not to.

The point is, you have options. You can create traditions that actually feel nourishing, not like a chore or an obligation. And if that feels overwhelming, just remember: there's no "right" way to do the holidays.

Final Thoughts: This Is Your Permission Slip

So this holiday season, let this be your permission slip to do what's best for you. Stay home, show up with strict boundaries, send a polite-but-firm "I won't be coming this year" text, create your own celebration—whatever aligns with your values and protects your peace.

You deserve a holiday that feels nourishing, not depleting. And you deserve to exist in spaces that honor your full humanity, always.

If you're reading this and feeling a little less alone, a little more validated, and maybe even wondering if working with a therapist who gets it might help—hello, I'm here. My practice is all about helping people like you feel seen, supported, and ready to live a life that feels true to them.

You don't have to carry this alone. You don't have to justify your boundaries. You don't have to sacrifice your wellbeing for someone else's comfort.

You just have to take care of you.

Need Support Setting Holiday Boundaries?

If you're struggling with family relationships, feeling guilty about protecting your peace, or navigating the grief of the family dynamic you wish you had, therapy can help. I specialize in working with people who are learning to honor their needs, set boundaries that stick, and build a life that feels authentic.

Warmly (and with a side of righteous rage),
Amie