All I Want for Christmas is Safety and Acceptance

I think for most therapists, the holidays can be a stressful time of year—not only because of the increased stress our clients often face at home, work, or with family, but also due to the surge of new client interest that typically comes in anticipation of the holiday chaos. When I use the term “holiday,” I’m referring to the classic Americana pressure to hustle and bustle before the end of the year. I like to visualize the last three to four months of the year as a mossy stone rolling down a hill, starting when the school year begins in that final breath of summer, picking up speed until the post-New Year’s foothill that, for me, feels muddy and rather sinking until about March or April, depending on the year.

Regardless of sociocultural background, I think most people can relate to a sense of pressure to connect with family, maximize winter break, or give back to the community in some way. The experience I want to highlight specifically is the ritual of family connection, often around the themes of gratitude and “unconditional love” that the holidays typically evoke.

Most of my clients, like me, identify with the queer community and are accustomed to hiding parts of themselves or their experiences from their families. Whether out of necessity for survival or as a coping mechanism, they often aren’t fully open with their families, an avoidance that’s somewhat easier to maintain due to limited interactions throughout the year. Leading up to the holidays, I often hear questions like, “Should I come out this year?” “Should I tell them about my partner?” or “Should I even go home for the holidays?” Much to my clients’ chagrin, I remind them that it’s not my job to answer these questions but rather to explore the meaning they’re making in asking the question or solving the problem.

Often, these questions arise from exhaustion over the idea of hiding parts of ourselves for yet another year. We may start to question whether the energy it takes to keep these parts of ourselves hidden truly benefits anyone. While I work predominantly with the queer community, this is an increasingly common question across various populations, especially this fall, as winter approaches amidst heightened political polarization and anxiety in the U.S.

Minority stress is often characterized by the chronic psychological stress of belonging to a stigmatized social group. According to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and many other theories with supporting evidence, people often think in dichotomous, black-and-white terms when anxious or stressed. What’s unique about minority stress is that we may not feel a direct sense of rejection or acceptance from family but instead experience an ambiguous tolerance, which leaves us feeling misunderstood, hypervigilant, and marginalized in family gatherings.

If you’re finding yourself asking these questions about your life or identity, I encourage you to reflect on what feels best for you to do this season:

1. Why now do I feel pressure or a desire to address these questions about who I am and my relationship with my family? Am I viewing this relationship with a pessimistic lens? Are there other areas where we align and feel accepted?
2. What were my recent family experiences like? Did I feel uncomfortable or unsafe? Are there certain family members who’ve been emotionally supportive in the past?
3. If I share aspects of myself with my family, am I prepared for the range of responses I may receive? (Please take the time to consider not only the negative but also the best-case scenarios.) How does my family typically respond to people who live or think differently from them?
4. Do I have the tools to communicate my needs, and am I prepared to set boundaries with family or friends? Can I bring an ally or partner home for support, and do they consent and feel safe doing so?
5. What would be the safest way for me to share these parts of myself with my family? Is there a specific family member or friend who might empathize with me? Do I communicate best in writing, over the phone, or in person? When do I feel most confident in who I am?

After reflecting on these questions, please be gentle with yourself and your relationships. If this isn’t the right time to share these vulnerable parts of yourself, know that you’re not weak; you’re wise. If you sense that your family or you aren’t ready to process the boundaries or needs you have, trust that everyone unfolds in their own time, and growth can’t be rushed. You’re not selfish for prioritizing your needs and protecting your peace during a historically stressful time—one that should celebrate the love we have for ourselves and, perhaps this year, our chosen families.

Love and Well Wishes,

Sav Raynor (they/she) MS LMFT