You get 80 'Holiday Seasons' Are you enjoying any of them?

Disrupted schedules & increased 'together' time worsen quality of life for lots of us. Sound familiar? Here are some things you can try.

Last Thanksgiving, I spent 20 minutes hiding in my uncle’s garage pretending to take an important phone call.

The call? Oh it was very important.

Checking my email. Twice. Then scrolling through weather forecasts for cities I don’t live in.

Inside the house, 30 people were having the “MOST wonderful time of the year.”

Outside, I was Googling “how long is socially acceptable to be on a work call during Thanksgiving.”

If this sounds familiar, welcome to the club nobody wanted to join but here we are anyway.

Holidays are sold to us like this beautiful Norman Rockwell painting where everyone’s laughing, the turkey is perfect and Grandma’s telling heartwarming stories while snow gently falls outside-

But the reality is more like being trapped in a sensory theme park designed by someone who grew up alone in the woods and never experienced overstimulation.

I’ve never, NEVER really enjoyed them.

47 conversations happening simultaneously, kids using the hallway as a racetrack, someone burning something in the kitchen (it’s always something), your dad telling the same story for the 18th consecutive year, someone in another room criticizing their spouse (loudly)… all while Mariah Carey sings on an infinite loop that would make even her own family go insane.

You smile. You laugh. You pretend you’re having a blast, and you mentally calculate how long until you can GTFO without seeming rude.

The greeting card industry has been lying to us

Here’s what the ‘holiday industrial complex’ doesn’t tell you… at least 25% of people have brains that are not enjoying any of this (I suspect it’s more, but I’m biased)

Call it ADHD. Autism. Asperger’s. Or my favorite… simply “My brain does its own thing and it’s not what yours does, but that doesn’t make me an a-hole.”

A lot of our brains just aren’t wired for the performance art that holidays seem to demand.

We can’t just flip the social switch to “on” and keep it there for 16 hours.

We can’t ignore all the noise any more than you can ignore a fire alarm. We can’t fake enthusiasm for small talk about weather patterns and cousin Terry’s new car.

But for some reason no one wants to acknowledge the following…

The rest of the year, the traits that make holidays horrific are the EXACT traits that make us exceptional.

That hyperfocus that lets you work on a project for 10 hours straight without checking your phone once?

At work, people call that “dedication” and “drive.”

You get promoted for that.

But at Thanksgiving dinner when your uncle wants to discuss his golf handicap for 45 minutes and your brain decides to leave the building to think about a coding problem from last Tuesday?

Well, that just makes people think you’re rude.

And that sensitivity that helps you pick up on patterns before anyone else notices?

In business, that’s called “strategic thinking.” You spot trends before they become obvious. You notice details that save projects.

At a holiday party with competing conversations, flickering fluorescent lights and your aunt’s perfume that drowns out all language and sense of time… it’s overly stimulating and mostly just a weird version of hell.

You can’t fake it. Your brain refuses to pretend. You need an escape route and you need it now.

Holidays are designed for a different operating system. Unfortunately, one you aren’t running.

I get it. It sucks.

I don’t have it all figured out, but here’s what I’ve found that helps.

The charade isn’t working anyway

I spent years perfecting the fake smile. The “I’m fine” response. The performance of enjoyment while internally screaming.

Turns out, nobody was buying it.

My mom would pull me aside: “Are you okay? You seem off.”

My sister: “You look tired. Are you not having fun?”

Turns out I’m a terrible actor. Most of us are.

We’re sitting there thinking we’re fooling everyone, and our families are watching us like “why is she being so weird?”

You’re miserable. They’re confused. And everyone loses.

So last year, I tried something different: honesty.

Radical, I know.

What actually works (and I tested all of this)

Keep your routines sacred

Last Christmas, while on a group vaca, I told my family: “I need to go for a run. Every morning. It’s non-negotiable for me, but I can do it as early as you need me to so I don’t make waves in the schedule.”

My mom’s response? “No worries. I’ll have coffee ready when you get back.”

That’s it. No drama. No guilt trip.

Hummmm…

That morning run kept me sane for the entire visit. Without it, I would’ve been a disaster by day three.

Your meditation? Do it. Your coffee ritual? Do it. That thing that keeps you functional? Do it.

Stop negotiating and sweating the small stuff. Communicate and do you. It’s fine (for real).

Use your tools without shame (but with awareness)

I bought noise-canceling headphones specifically for family gatherings.

Best $200 I ever spent.

When people are casually chatting and I just need a minute to think, I find a spot to relax and put them on for 10 minutes. Sometimes I’m listening to music. Sometimes I’m just sitting there in silence while people think I’m on a call.

Now, do I care that my aunt might think it’s a little rude? Honestly, I do.

I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

But here’s what I’ve learned: I can either take a few minutes of space and then be genuinely pleasant and engaged for the next 4 hours, or I can skip it and be increasingly resentful for the entire visit.

Which version of me would she actually prefer to spend time with?

When I frame it that way, the choice is obvious.

Other tools that work include…

• stepping outside for “fresh air” (and yes, scrolling your phone in peace),

• taking a “quick rest” (hanging in a quiet room for a few minutes),

• volunteering to “run to the store” (driving around alone listening to podcasts).

The key is not framing these as escapes from your family.

Tell people how you’re wired before things go sideways

Here’s what I said last year:

“I’m noticing big gatherings sometimes drain my battery. I might need to go to bed a little earlier than everyone else.”

My dad’s response? “That makes sense. Do what you need to do.”

My sister? “Oh thank God, I thought it was just me.”

Turns out half the family feels the same way, but everyone was pretending.

Will everyone understand? No.

My aunt thinks I’m being “difficult.” She’s always thought that. Nothing I do will change her mind.

But most people appreciate the honesty. They’d rather know what’s actually going on than wonder why you seem miserable.

Create activities that don’t require constant small talk

2 Christmases ago, instead of sitting around the living room in awkward silence punctuated by forced conversation, I suggested we do a puzzle.

A 1,000-piece puzzle. And I hate puzzles.

It was awesome.

Everyone had something to focus on besides each other. We were still together. We were still connecting.

But the pressure to constantly ‘perform conversation’ was gone.

Other things that work: board games, baking together, going for walks, watching movies, building Lego sets, literally anything with structure.

Unstructured “quality time” is the enemy of neurodivergent or type A workaholics like myself.

We tend to need activities, not ambient socializing.

Make it happen.

Be honest because it’s better for everyone

What changed everything for me was realizing that being honest about what’s enjoyable isn’t just good for me, it’s good for everyone.

When I show up depleted and fake my way through a marathon gathering, nobody really wins.

My family gets a zombie version of me who’s physically present but mentally gone. I’m miserable. They sense something’s off but don’t know what. It’s weird.

When I’m honest about participating for a shorter chunk of time, suddenly I can actually show up. I’m engaged. I’m laughing at jokes. I’m asking real questions and listening to answers.

Turns out people prefer 6 hours of genuine connection over 16 hours of fake pleasantness.

Last year, my uncle wanted to debate healthcare. Instead of either engaging (and ruining both our days) or just dodging it, I said: “Let’s have fun instead of getting all worked up if that’s okay. Tell me about your Colorado trip. I’ve been wanting to hear about it.”

He totally got it. We had a great conversation about hiking instead of a terrible one about vaccine mandates. Win-win.

When my mom wanted me to visit three houses in one day, I said: “I really want to give everyone quality time. If I do three stops, I’ll be fried by stop three. Can we do a real visit at your place, and I’ll catch Aunt Angie later this week when I can actually enjoy it?”

She appreciated that more than me showing up irritable and distracted.

Yes. People actually prefer honesty over martyrdom. Who knew?

Honesty creates better holidays for everyone

My holidays look different now.

I spend Christmas morning alone with a workout and coffee before seeing anyone.

I often leave family gatherings earlier than most people, but I communicate it:

“Heading out you guys - it’s past my bedtime! Had so much fun. Thanks for having me.”

I say no to some events especially as my social calendar fills up. And I offer alternatives: “Can’t do the big party, but want to grab coffee Tuesday? I’d love to actually catch up.”

Most people don’t want you to suffer in silence. They’d rather know what’s up.

When I stopped pretending and started being honest- while staying warm and offering alternatives- something weird happened.

My relationships got better.

My family started being more honest about their own needs. My sister admitted she hates hosting but feels obligated. My dad admitted he’d rather do a small Thanksgiving than a huge one. My mom admitted she finds Christmas exhausting and would love to switch things up sometimes.

So many times everyone is performing for each other, and nobody is actually happy.

Your honesty gives other people permission to be honest too.

The actual insight here

Being you during the holidays isn’t about being difficult or high-maintenance.

It’s about being honest enough to create real connection instead of performing fake enjoyment.

Most people appreciate directness. “I need to leave in an hour” is easier to work with than watching someone slowly die inside while pretending they’re fine.

“I’m going to step outside for a few minutes to check on something” is better than seeming checked out and irritable for the rest of the night.

“I can’t do the big party but I’d love to see you one-on-one” creates better connection than forcing yourself through an after work event that drains you.

The people who care about you want you to be honest. They’d rather adjust than watch you suffer.

And the people who get mad at you? They were always going to be difficult. This just helped you figure it out faster.

So this year, try radical honesty. Tell people what you need. Explain why. Offer alternatives. Stay warm. Be clear.

Stop protecting everyone from reality. They can handle it.

I often forget to take my own advice, but when I remember, I often discover that honesty doesn’t ruin relationships- it improves them.

Real connection requires real communication. And real communication requires telling the truth about who you are and what you need.

Oh and your family might surprise you.

Mine sure did.