Beyond Gratitude Lists: Finding Peace When You’re Not Feeling Festive

You know that moment when someone cheerfully tells you to “just focus on what you’re grateful for” and something inside you wants to scream? When the relentless holiday cheer feels less like an invitation and more like a demand you can’t quite meet?

If these feelings sound familiar, you’re not alone.

I can tell you, from my years seeing patients navigate the holidays, that the gap between how we’re “supposed” to feel during the holidays and how we actually feel creates one of the most profound sources of emotional pain during this season. The pressure to perform happiness, manufacture gratitude, and radiate festive cheer can feel suffocating—especially when you’re navigating grief, loneliness, health challenges, or the quiet disappointments that come with aging in a culture that worships youth.

Let’s talk honestly about what’s really happening beneath the surface of all those gratitude lists and forced smiles.

The Hidden Weight of Holiday Expectations

The holidays arrive each year wrapped in layers of unspoken expectations. We’re told this is the “most wonderful time of the year”—a season of joy, connection, and grateful reflection. Social media floods with perfect family photos. Store windows shimmer with impossible visions of holiday magic. Everywhere we turn, the message is clear: You should be happy. You should be grateful. You should be celebrating.

But here’s what I’ve observed in my practice: the gap between these cultural expectations and our lived reality creates what I call “emotional debt.” You’re not just dealing with whatever legitimate challenges you’re facing—you’re also carrying the shame of not feeling the way you think you’re supposed to feel.

Why Depression Peaks During the Holidays

“Just be grateful for what you have.”

“Think positive thoughts!”

“At least you’re healthy.” (Or some variation of minimizing whatever you’re actually experiencing.)

These well-meaning phrases represent what psychologists call toxic positivity—the belief that we should maintain a positive mindset regardless of how difficult or painful our circumstances might be. And toxic positivity doesn’t just dismiss our pain—it actually makes it worse.

Here’s the thing: your brain doesn’t work that way. When you’re experiencing genuine grief, loneliness, anxiety, or depression, being told to “just think positive” activates something in the emotional centers of your brain that feels like rejection. Emotional invalidation—the experience of having your feelings dismissed or minimized—actually intensifies emotional distress rather than relieving it.

This means that every time someone suggests you “count your blessings” when you’re struggling, your nervous system registers that not only are you in pain, but that pain is somehow unacceptable. The shame compounds the suffering.

The Myth of the Perfect Holiday (And How It Harms Us)

Let me share something that might surprise you: the “perfect family holiday” that dominates our collective imagination? It mostly exists only in the collective brainwashing we have all experienced through decades of advertising, nostalgic movies, and carefully curated social media posts.

The truth of the matter is that the ideal family—gathered around a beautifully set table, laughing warmly, free from conflict or tension—exists primarily in our imaginations and on greeting cards.

Real families are messy. Real holidays include uncomfortable political conversations, old resentments that resurface, adult children who can’t make it home, health issues that limit celebration, grief that doesn’t pause for December, and the exhaustion of trying to recreate traditions that no longer fit who you are today.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 64% of people report that their mental health worsens during the holiday season. You’re not broken for struggling. You’re having a completely normal response to abnormal pressure.

When Gratitude Becomes Another Task on Your List

I want to be clear: I’m not against gratitude. Authentic appreciation for the good things in our lives can be genuinely healing. Research from Harvard Medical School demonstrates that gratitude practices, when done voluntarily and authentically, can improve mental health and overall well-being.

But here’s the crucial difference: gratitude that emerges naturally from your own reflection is medicine. Gratitude that’s demanded of you—that becomes another obligation, another thing you’re “supposed” to do, another way you’re failing if you can’t muster it—becomes just one more weight to carry.

If you’re exhausted by the thought of writing in yet another gratitude journal, you don’t need to force it. That resistance you’re feeling? That’s your inner wisdom telling you that what you need right now isn’t more tasks. It’s permission to simply be where you are.

The Real Emotions Hiding Beneath “Not Festive”

When patients tell me they’re “just not feeling festive,” we always look deeper. Because “not festive” is rarely the whole story. Underneath that surface feeling, there’s usually something more specific—and more valid—happening.

Grief: Perhaps you’ve lost someone dear to you, and this is the first (or fifth, or twentieth) holiday without them. Maybe you’re grieving the loss of your previous role, your health, your mobility, or relationships that have changed or ended.

Loneliness: In later life, the loss of friends, family members, or even the structure that work once provided can create profound isolation. The holidays amplify this—everyone else seems surrounded by family while you’re wondering how to fill the empty days.

Anxiety: The financial pressure, social obligations, family dynamics, travel stress, and disrupted routines can flood your nervous system with cortisol and adrenaline. Your body is literally in a stress response, making it impossible to access feelings of joy or gratitude.

Exhaustion: After decades of being the one who creates the magic for everyone else, you’re simply tired. The thought of one more holiday performance feels unbearable.

Disappointment: Life didn’t turn out the way you thought it would. Adult children live far away or have strained relationships with you. Health issues limit what you can do. The golden retirement you imagined feels nothing like your reality.

All of these feelings are valid. All of them are understandable. And none of them mean something is wrong with you.

Small, Genuine Moments vs. Performative Celebration

Here’s what I’ve learned in my own experiences—and as I observe the stories of those around me: healing doesn’t come from manufacturing feelings we don’t have. It comes from creating tiny spaces where genuine connection might emerge, without expectation or performance.

This might look like:

The warmth of morning coffee in a quiet house. Not Instagram-worthy. Not a big celebration. Just a moment of peace before the day’s demands begin.

A honest conversation with one friend who doesn’t need you to pretend you’re fine. Who can sit with you in the messiness without trying to fix it or cheer you up.

Saying no to an obligation that would drain you, even if it disappoints someone else. Choosing your own nervous system regulation over someone else’s expectations.

A walk in nature where you don’t have to smile or perform or be anything other than a human being moving through space.

Permission to cry about what hurts, without rushing to “find the silver lining” or “look on the bright side.”

These small, authentic experiences—where you’re allowed to simply be human—create more genuine peace than any forced gratitude practice ever could.

Practical Strategies When You’re Not Feeling It

Let me offer some gentle, practical approaches that honor where you actually are, not where you think you should be:

1. Name What You’re Actually Feeling

Your body always tells the truth. Notice the tightness in your chest, the heaviness in your limbs, the knot in your stomach. These physical sensations are trying to tell you something. You don’t have to fix the feelings—just acknowledge them. “I’m feeling lonely right now.” “I’m exhausted.” “I’m grieving.” Simply naming the truth can provide relief.

2. Create Boundaries Around Holiday Exposure

You don’t have to attend every gathering, answer every phone call, or scroll through everyone’s perfect holiday photos. According to research from the Mayo Clinic, protecting yourself from additional stress during difficult times is essential self-care, not selfishness.

It’s okay to:

• Decline invitations without elaborate explanations
• Limit time on social media
• Skip traditions that no longer serve you
• Leave gatherings early when you’re depleted

3. Redefine What “Holiday” Means for You Now

You’re not the same person you were ten years ago, five years ago, or even last year. Your holidays don’t have to look the same either.

Maybe celebration now means a quiet day alone with a good book. Maybe it means ordering takeout instead of cooking. Maybe it means volunteering somewhere that fills you up rather than drains you. Maybe it means nothing at all—and that’s perfectly acceptable.

4. Find One Person Who Gets It

If you have even one person—a friend, a sibling, a therapist, a support group member—who can witness your experience without trying to fix it or cheer you up, reach out to them. Having even one emotionally supportive relationship significantly buffers against depression and anxiety.

You don’t need a crowd. You need one safe person who says, “This is hard. I’m here.”

5. Protect Your Sleep

When you’re emotionally struggling, sleep disruption makes everything exponentially worse. Poor sleep amplifies anxiety, deepens depression, reduces your ability to cope with stress, and makes it nearly impossible to access any positive emotions.

During the holidays, sleep often deteriorates due to:

• Schedule disruptions and travel
• Rich foods and alcohol close to bedtime
• Increased stress and worry
• Houseguests and noise
• Grief and loneliness that intensify at night

Protecting your sleep isn’t selfish—it’s the foundation that allows you to survive this season. Even small efforts matter: maintaining your bedtime routine when possible, creating a dark and quiet sleep environment, limiting caffeine after noon, and using gentle relaxation practices before bed.

(If sleep has become a persistent struggle, my Sweet Dreams After 60 course addresses the unique sleep challenges women face in later life, with strategies that go far beyond basic sleep hygiene to address the root causes of insomnia after 60.)

Permission to Opt Out (Without Guilt)

Here’s something I wish someone had told me years ago, and something I now share with every patient who needs to hear it: you have permission to opt out of holiday expectations that don’t serve you.

You don’t have to:

• Host Thanksgiving because “you always do”
• Send holiday cards if the task feels burdensome
• Buy gifts you can’t afford
• Attend religious services that no longer resonate
• Maintain relationships that drain you
• Pretend you’re fine when you’re not

The people who truly love you will understand. The people who don’t understand aren’t prioritizing your wellbeing—and you get to decide how much energy you give to maintaining their comfort at the expense of your own.

When Holiday Struggle Signals Something Deeper

While it’s completely normal to feel increased stress or sadness during the holidays, sometimes these feelings indicate a deeper depression or anxiety that needs professional support.

Consider reaching out to a mental health professional if you’re experiencing:

• Persistent feelings of hopelessness or worthlessness
• Changes in appetite or sleep that last beyond the holiday season
• Loss of interest in activities that usually bring you joy
• Difficulty getting through daily tasks
• Thoughts of self-harm or suicide

The National Institute of Mental Health provides comprehensive information about depression symptoms and treatment options. And remember: seeking help isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s an act of wisdom and self-preservation.

Finding Your Own Way Through

There is a quiet kind of power in learning to honor your own experience during the holidays, regardless of what others expect from you. Not the forced cheer that exhausts you. Not the gratitude lists that feel hollow. But the gentle acknowledgment that this season is hard for you right now, and that’s okay.

Some years, the holidays feel lighter. Other years, they feel impossibly heavy. You’re allowed to have a heavy year—or several heavy years—without apologizing for it or rushing to fix it.

And that is where the peace lives. Not in doing more. Not in feeling what you don’t feel. Not in manufacturing gratitude or joy on demand. But in returning, again and again, to what is true for you.

Maybe that truth includes moments of genuine connection alongside the loneliness. Maybe it includes small glimmers of peace within the grief. Maybe it’s simply surviving until January, when the pressure finally lifts.

All of it is valid. All of it is human. And all of it deserves compassion—especially from yourself.

A Gentle Next Step

So here’s what I’d invite you to consider today: What would it feel like to give yourself permission to feel exactly what you’re feeling, without judgment or shame?

Not as a permanent state. Not as wallowing or giving up. But as a simple, honest acknowledgment that this is where you are right now.

You don’t need to fix it. You don’t need to think more positively. You don’t need another gratitude list.

You just need to be gentle with yourself. To protect your rest, your energy, and your nervous system. To seek out the one or two people who can witness your truth. To create tiny moments of authentic peace rather than performing celebration you don’t feel.

That’s enough. You’re enough. Right here, exactly as you are.

Here’s to surviving the season with honesty and compassion—for yourself, above all.

Sweet dreams, 🌸✨

Inge

If you’re struggling with sleep during this stressful season and would like support from someone who understands the unique challenges women face after 60, explore my Sweet Dreams After 60 course. It addresses not just sleep hygiene, but the root causes of insomnia in later life—including the stress, grief, and life transitions that make restful sleep feel impossible.

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