When the Holidays Don’t Erase the Hurt: Finding Boundaries with Family.
There’s this unspoken expectation that the holidays are supposed to fix everything. That the moment November hits, the past quietly folds itself away, and we all step into a season of glitter, togetherness, and “just be grateful.” But the truth is… the holidays don’t erase hurt. They don’t magically heal wounds or undo the things that were said, ignored, or brushed aside throughout the year.
And yet, for some of us, our families expect exactly that.
My family has a habit of forgetting the pain they’ve caused—as if the calendar flipping to December grants them a clean slate. They slip into holiday mode, smiling like everything is fine, expecting me to show up, to blend in, to pretend along with them. But every year, the weight of those unresolved hurts sits heavy on my chest. Because love doesn’t mean forgetting. Love doesn’t require amnesia. And forgiveness cannot be forced by a date on the calendar.
The Pressure to “Keep the Peace”
There’s this overwhelming pressure to be the one who lets things go… again. The one who makes it easy. The one who smooths over tension so everyone else can enjoy the holiday without discomfort. But the truth is: peace that comes at the cost of your own well-being isn’t real peace. It’s self-betrayal.
And I’ve learned that honoring myself—my healing, my boundaries, my emotional safety—is not something I need to apologize for.
Boundaries Are Not Walls
People often hear boundaries and assume harshness or distance. But boundaries aren’t walls meant to shut people out—they’re doors that you get to open and close with intention. They’re how you choose to protect your peace, your energy, and the parts of you that have been hurt before.
And during the holidays, boundaries matter more than ever.
It might look like:
Choosing not to attend every gathering
Deciding how long you stay
Not engaging in conversations that trigger hurt
Saying no without justification
Or even choosing not to show up at all this year
None of those choices make you difficult. They make you aware. They make you someone who refuses to abandon themselves to make others comfortable.
Pain Doesn’t Disappear Because There’s Pie on the Table
Sometimes the hardest part is how quickly others move on from the pain they inflicted. They act like the damage was minor, or inconvenient, or—worst of all—nonexistent. And when they show up with holiday cheer, it can feel like they’re asking you to erase your memory for the sake of tradition.
But the truth is:
Hurt doesn’t vanish because someone else decided they’re ready to move past it.
Healing isn’t seasonal. And your boundaries aren’t negotiable just because a holiday is approaching.
Giving Yourself Permission
This year, I’m giving myself permission to honor the truth—not the version people wish it was, not the version that keeps the peace, and not the version that keeps me small.
Permission to create a holiday that feels good to me.
Permission to choose comfort over obligation.
Permission to step back if I need to.
Permission to protect my heart without guilt.
Permission to say, “Things aren’t healed yet, and I’m allowed to act accordingly.”
You Can Love People and Still Protect Yourself
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is this:
You can love your family and still need distance.
You can wish them well and still choose not to expose yourself to old wounds.
You can cherish memories and still guard your peace.
Love doesn’t mean access.
Love doesn’t mean pretending.
Love doesn’t mean offering yourself up as the holiday scapegoat for the sake of tradition.
Creating a New Kind of Holiday
Maybe this year looks different.
Maybe it’s quieter.
Smaller.
More protected.
More gentle.
Maybe this year, the holidays are about healing yourself instead of holding everything together for everyone else.
Because your well-being matters.
Your feelings matter.
Your history matters.
And the holidays are not a magic eraser for hurt that hasn’t been acknowledged.
This season, I’m choosing boundaries.
I’m choosing truth.
I’m choosing peace that actually feels like peace.
And if that means disappointing people who expected me to pretend—then so be it.
I won’t abandon myself this holiday season.
And neither should you.