It's OK to Skip the Holidays This Year

It’s beginning to look a lot like this sucks...

OK, so, the holidays picked a really terrible time to show up this year: a few short weeks after a nation-splintering, Democracy-threatening, relationship-shattering election, the destructive, disorienting tremors of which have only just begun.

And right now, still in the initial haze of shock and grief, tens of millions of us are looking at the calendar and feeling the knot in our stomach twist around itself as we face the nauseating prospect of having to fake a smile and make nice and pretend that all is merry and bright, while seated at the holiday table alongside people we no longer feel a desire to be around speak to, let alone break bread and sing carols with right now.

Now, you might have already decided that the bonds of family transcend politics; that no matter how your voting choices align, the ties of blood and tradition are worth enduring the awkward silences and edited conversations required to stay connected. I’m certainly not going to attempt to argue you out of opening your home, heart, or table to anyone you feel compelled to welcome, and I’m not going to ridicule you for practicing radical hospitality to people who voted differently than you. That is, for those who choose it, an admirable and perfectly acceptable course.

This piece isn’t for you.

This is for the rest of us.

This is for those of us who have found ourselves fighting the guilt we feel for wanting to say no and shut it all down and opt-out of these gatherings altogether—people who want to cancel the holidays this year because they’re burnt out, stressed out, and maxed out.

I’m here to give you permission to do just that.

Our families, friendships, and casual relationships are all being stretched to the point of breaking right now, and though we as people of love should do everything we can to weather that turbulence and navigate relational disconnections, we are not required to sustain repeated damage in the name of love or family. We don't have to stay in harm's way in order to prove our empathy or our goodness. There are lots of ways to express such things.

Some alternatives you might choose this holiday season, to forging an uneasy peace and subjecting yourself to greater grief and conflict:

Host a chosen family celebration. Instead of gathering with people out of guilt or obligation, who you may not share much with beyond history and DNA—create a new traditional meal by inviting fellow activists, kindred spirits, people you feel a heart connection to, those whose company gives you hope and lightness. Set a table that you look forward to sitting at and have a blast.

Serve somebody. Get out into your community and spend the hours you’d previously have spent going through the motions with family members you feel no real affinity with, and go and care for and build connections to people you have a burden for, who are going to be under greater duress because of the political reality that is coming. Leverage your time for a cause and a group of human beings that move you.

Start a new holiday tradition. Last year, we spent Christmas Eve at the Chinese Lantern Festival here in our city, not because we were trying to avoid relatives but because we’re geographically separated from them. It was a completely unexpected joy to be somewhere we’d never have chosen had we not been alone, but now it’s something that we’ll likely do no matter what.

Take care of yourself. The past few weeks have been one terrible century. If this year, all you want to do is stay in your pajamas, catch up on sleep, order takeout, and lay in bed with your pets or your favorite person or alone—do that. You’re exhausted and grieving and worried, and you are not required to sacrifice your mental, physical, and emotional health on the altar of holiday expectations, no matter who tells you otherwise.

The bottom line, friends, is that you can love people you don’t like but you also can love them just fine from a distance.

Caring for another human being doesn't necessitate you placing yourself in harm's way, it doesn't demand you sustaining repeated wounds, and it doesn't require you to make peace with what you cannot abide. The biggest misconception people have about love is that they owe people they care for, permanent proximity. They don't. That isn't love's expectation, despite the way we are guilted into believing it.

You aren't required to stay closely tethered to anyone simply because you once were. As you and the other person you love evolve and grow, and as you learn more about who they presently are, your shared past does not bring the expectation of staying now. It is perfectly acceptable to decide, "This person or gathering is toxic to me, at least right now, this relationship is unhealthy to me at this moment, and I need distance in order to have peace." Ultimately, you owe people you care deeply for authenticity and decency, but nothing else.

I’m not saying that avoiding people because of their political affiliation is mandatory and I’m not ruling out the memories and connections that can come from pressing into difficult exchanges with people and being surprised by joy and intimacy. I’m just saying that choosing you or clarifying your convictions are perfectly admirable decisions as well.

This holiday season, one coming in the middle of an existential upheaval that none of us are equipped for, feel free to give yourself the gift of saying no, opting-out, and shutting it down this year if that’s what you need.

Happy Holidays.