When You’re Not Yourself During the Holidays
I once forgot my partner’s birthday. We were lying in bed at the end of the night when he said quietly, “I have to tell you, I’m kind of disappointed. You forgot my birthday today.” I was genuinely shocked. This wasn’t like me. I’m the person who remembers birthdays, who plans something thoughtful, who tries to make those days special—especially when I’m romantically involved. And yet, he was right. I had completely forgotten. My mind immediately went to the harsh questions: am I heartless, am I self-absorbed, do I just not care anymore? Looking back now, the answer feels clearer and far kinder than anything I told myself in that moment. I wasn’t heartless. I wasn’t careless. I was burnt out. I was at my absolute limit, using all of my energy just to keep it together. The holidays were approaching, and my mind was already spinning with questions about how to spend them, whether to spend them together or alone, and how to navigate a relationship where so much felt unresolved. My system didn’t forget because I didn’t care; it forgot because it was overloaded.
Maybe you didn’t forget someone’s birthday, but perhaps you forgot your keys at the store, or left your child at school longer than usual, or realized too late that you hadn’t visited a friend in the hospital even though you meant to. Maybe you’ve driven somewhere and suddenly wondered how you even got there. I’ve had clients describe exactly that—realizing they were in a completely different place with no memory of the drive. I’ve worked with people who slept for eighteen hours straight because their body simply couldn’t stay awake anymore, and others who cried in a bathroom during a Christmas party and slipped out the back door as soon as they felt they could. These experiences can feel alarming and shame-inducing, but they are not signs of weakness or selfishness. They are stress responses. When we are carrying prolonged emotional strain, especially related to relationships and the pressure of the holidays, our ability to stay present, alert, and attuned begins to falter. The nervous system narrows its focus to survival, and things that normally come easily—memory, attention, emotional availability—can slip.
What makes this even harder is how alone it can feel. Most people don’t talk about these moments because they’re afraid of being judged, misunderstood, or labeled as unstable or ungrateful. You already feel disconnected from yourself, so you keep going, keep functioning, keep telling yourself to just get through it, all while quietly wondering if something is wrong with you. I want to say this clearly: you are not crazy, and you are not alone. There are often complicated circumstances, relationship dynamics, memories, and unprocessed feelings living in the body that keep people in a kind of ongoing stress or trauma response. Your system is doing its best to protect you, even if the cost is exhaustion, numbness, or moments of disconnection that don’t feel like you.
This next article (The Holidays When Things Aren’t Okay) is for you if you’re moving through the holidays while carrying relationship pain, if you’re showing up but not really present, if you’re forgetting things, zoning out, or holding back tears in public spaces. Support exists, and strategies exist, but sometimes the most powerful first step is simply having somewhere to put the truth of what you’re carrying. Being able to say, “This is actually really hard,” and have someone truly see, hear, and believe you can go a long way toward helping your nervous system soften. You don’t have to figure everything out right now, and you don’t have to carry this alone. Sometimes being witnessed is what finally allows the body to exhale.
