This blog post was updated in September 2026
The holidays are often presented as a season of togetherness. We see images of full dinner tables, laughing families, couples exchanging gifts, friends gathering for drinks, and homes filled with warmth and celebration. There is a quiet message underneath all of it: This is when you are supposed to feel happy, connected, and surrounded by people you love.
But what happens when that isn’t how the holidays feel for you?
Maybe you are spending the holidays alone this year. Maybe you will be surrounded by people and still feel incredibly lonely. Maybe someone you love is no longer here. Perhaps a relationship ended, your family has changed, you have moved away from the people who once felt like home, or you simply find yourself in a different chapter of life than you expected to be in.
Sometimes holiday loneliness is not about having no one around us. It is about missing a particular person, missing the way life used to feel, or longing for a sense of belonging that we haven’t been able to find. And if that is where you find yourself this holiday season, I want you to know something before we go any further: there is nothing wrong with you because you are struggling to feel joyful during a season that tells you that you should be.
As a therapist, I see how much pressure we can put on ourselves to feel a certain way during the holidays. We may think, Why am I still sad? Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. I should be grateful. I should be happy. I don't want to ruin the holidays for everyone else.
But emotions don’t follow the calendar. You can be grateful and grieving. You can love your family and still feel lonely around them. You can enjoy parts of the holiday and still wish someone were there. You can genuinely care about the people in your life and still feel a deep longing for something that is missing.
There is room for all of those feelings to exist at the same time.
Why loneliness can feel especially intense during the holidays
Loneliness is a deeply human experience. It is not simply the same thing as being physically alone. You can live by yourself and feel deeply connected to the people around you, just as you can sit in a crowded room and feel as though nobody really sees you. Research on social connection supports this distinction. Our well-being is influenced not only by how many relationships we have, but also by whether we feel supported within them and whether those relationships feel meaningful and satisfying.
The holidays can bring these questions about connection much closer to the surface.
There may be an empty chair at the dinner table where someone you love used to sit. You may be reminded of a relationship that ended. You may be spending another holiday wishing your family relationships looked different. You may be comparing your life with friends who seem to be getting married, having children, buying homes, or celebrating milestones while you feel as though you are standing still.
And then there is social media.
During the holidays, our phones can become a constant stream of beautifully decorated homes, family traditions, romantic dinners, vacations, engagements, parties, and smiling photographs. Of course, these moments can be real and meaningful for the people experiencing them. But they are still only moments. They don’t show the argument that happened before the photograph, the person who cried in the bathroom, the family member who didn’t attend, or the loneliness someone felt after everyone went home.
When we compare our whole, complicated lives with someone else’s carefully selected moments, it can leave us feeling as though we are the only ones who aren’t doing life correctly.
Sometimes we are grieving more than a person
One of the things I often encourage clients to explore is what their loneliness is actually asking them to notice. Sometimes we are grieving a person. Sometimes we are grieving a relationship. Sometimes we are grieving a version of ourselves. You may be missing the holidays you used to have when your children were younger. You may miss the family home you grew up in. You may miss the feeling of being someone’s partner. You may miss the friendships you once had before everyone became busy with work, relationships, children, or different lives.
You may even be grieving an expectation of what your life would look like by now. That kind of grief can be difficult to explain because nothing tangible has necessarily been taken away. Yet something meaningful has changed. The holidays have a way of reminding us of these changes because traditions carry memory. A familiar song, a particular meal, a family recipe, a place at the table, or even the smell of something cooking can bring an entire chapter of our lives rushing back.
If this happens to you, you don’t have to talk yourself out of it. Sometimes the most compassionate response is simply to acknowledge, Of course this hurts. This mattered to me.
You don’t have to force yourself to feel festive
When we’re hurting, our instinct can be to fix the feeling as quickly as possible. We might fill our calendar, stay constantly busy, drink more, scroll endlessly, avoid being alone, or tell ourselves to “just get through it.” Sometimes distraction is helpful. Sometimes we genuinely need a break from difficult emotions. But there is a difference between giving yourself a little breathing room and continually trying to outrun what you feel.
In therapy, I often talk with clients about making room for emotions rather than immediately judging them. Feelings are not necessarily problems that need to be solved. They can also be information. Loneliness may be telling you that you need connection. Grief may be telling you that someone or something mattered deeply. Anxiety may be telling you that a situation feels unsafe or overwhelming.
That doesn’t mean every feeling should dictate what you do. It simply means you don’t have to shame yourself for having it. You might gently ask yourself, “What am I needing right now?” Maybe the answer is company. Maybe it’s rest. Maybe it’s reassurance. Maybe it’s a phone call with someone who knows the real you. Maybe it’s permission to leave a gathering early. Maybe it’s space to cry.
There is no single correct way to care for yourself.
Let your holiday look different this year
One of the most freeing things you can do is release the idea that you have to recreate the holidays exactly as they have always been.
If an old tradition brings comfort, keep it.
If an old tradition brings pain, you are allowed to change it.
You might create a quieter holiday that reflects who you are now. You might invite a friend for dinner instead of attending a large family gathering. You might volunteer, spend time outdoors, watch a favourite movie, cook something meaningful, or begin a small tradition of your own.
If you are grieving someone who has passed, you might intentionally make space for their memory. Light a candle. Prepare their favourite food. Listen to a song they loved. Tell someone a story about them. Visit a meaningful place. Grief doesn’t always need to be pushed aside in order for us to experience joy.
Sometimes remembering someone is part of how we carry them with us.
Connection doesn’t have to be big to matter
When you’re lonely, it can be tempting to think you need a large social circle or a packed calendar to feel better. But connection often begins much more quietly.
Send a message to someone you trust.
Ask a friend if they have time for a coffee.
Call someone while you take a walk.
Join a community group.
Spend time with someone who makes you feel comfortable enough that you don’t have to pretend everything is fine.
And if reaching out feels vulnerable, start small. You don’t have to tell someone your entire story. You can simply say, “The holidays are feeling a little difficult for me this year. Do you have time to talk?” Research continues to show that meaningful social connection plays an important role in emotional and physical well-being, and that loneliness is associated with poorer mental health outcomes.
This is one reason I don't think of connection as a luxury in therapy. For many of us, feeling seen, understood, and supported is part of what helps us move through difficult experiences.
And sometimes, boundaries are part of taking care of yourself
For some people, the loneliness of the holidays comes from being away from family. For others, it comes from being around family.
Family gatherings can bring complicated histories with them. Old roles can reappear, difficult comments can be made, and you may find yourself slipping back into patterns you have worked hard to move beyond. Sometimes, protecting your peace means recognizing that not every relationship or gathering is emotionally safe or healthy for you.
I say this not only as a therapist, but as a human being. I’ve had moments in my own life when I’ve needed to set boundaries and protect my peace because of difficult family dynamics. I’ve had to learn that caring about people doesn’t mean I have to tolerate everything, and that setting a boundary doesn’t make me unkind, selfish, or uncaring. Sometimes, it is simply an act of self-respect.
You don’t have to attend every gathering. You don’t have to stay for the entire evening. You don’t have to answer every personal question or explain every decision you make. A boundary is not a punishment. It is a way of communicating what you are and aren’t able to participate in.
Sometimes caring for your mental health during the holidays means choosing connection. Sometimes it means choosing distance. Learning the difference is part of getting to know yourself.
Be careful about the story loneliness tells you
Loneliness can become convincing. When we feel disconnected for long enough, our minds can begin creating explanations: Nobody really cares about me. Everyone has someone except me. I’m always going to feel this way. Something must be wrong with me.
Those thoughts can feel like facts when we’re hurting. This is an important place to become curious rather than critical.
Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” you might ask, “What is happening for me right now?”
That small shift matters. Loneliness is an experience. It is not an identity.
Feeling alone today does not mean you are destined to be alone. Having a difficult holiday does not mean your life is going badly. Being in a season of transition does not mean you have failed. If loneliness has become a persistent part of your life, you don’t have to figure it out entirely on your own.
You are allowed to have a human holiday
Maybe this holiday season will be joyful.
Maybe it will be complicated.
Maybe there will be moments when you laugh until your stomach hurts and other moments when you quietly miss someone who isn’t there.
Maybe you’ll feel connected one day and lonely the next.
That’s okay.
A meaningful holiday doesn’t have to be a perfect holiday. And taking care of yourself doesn’t mean forcing yourself to feel better before you’re ready. If you’re feeling lonely this holiday season, I hope you can offer yourself some of the compassion you would naturally offer to someone you love. Notice what you’re feeling. Get curious about what you need. Reach toward safe people when you can. Give yourself permission to change traditions that no longer fit. And allow yourself to experience both the sadness and the moments of warmth when they arrive.
As a therapist, one of the things I most want clients to know is that you don’t have to have everything figured out before you reach out for support. You deserve a space where you don’t have to pretend that you’re okay, where your experiences can be met with curiosity rather than judgment, and where you can begin to understand what you need with a little more compassion.
And if the holidays feel lonely this year, please remember: you are not failing at the holidays. You are having a human experience.
There is room for you here, exactly as you are.
If this resonates with you.
If holiday loneliness, grief, family stress, or a sense of disconnection has been weighing on you, therapy can offer a place to slow down, make sense of what you’re carrying, and feel less alone in it. A Welcoming Home Psychotherapy provides a warm, supportive space for adults navigating anxiety, depression, stress, self-esteem, relationships, and life transitions.
If you’d like to learn more, you can explore our Individual Therapy pages to learn more about how we support clients.
