Not Just Another Season

A Holiday Reflection for the Wounded, the Rising, and the Rebuilding

The holidays carry a certain energy. For some, it’s tradition and joy. For others, it’s a mix of emotions—some memories sweet, others bittersweet. And that’s alright. Because what I’ve learned over the years is this: growth allows us to look back without getting stuck. We don’t stare into the past to relive pain—we glance back to see how far we’ve climbed.

There were years when this season felt heavy, sure. I’ve spent holidays in places that don’t celebrate much of anything. But when I look back now, I don’t feel the same weight—I feel the mark of progress. I see the grit it took to get here, and the grace that met me along the way. That shift in perspective? That’s work. And it’s available to anyone willing to put in the time to grow, reflect, and reframe.

If the holidays bring up more questions than answers, that doesn’t mean you’re off track. It means you’re paying attention. Sometimes the tension we feel is just the space between who we’ve been and who we’re becoming. And the holidays? They tend to magnify that space.

There’s no need to rush to feel festive. Let it be what it is—and keep growing anyway. That, in itself, is worth honoring.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 64% of people living with mental health challenges say the holidays make their conditions worse. That’s not a small number—it’s the majority. But what’s powerful here isn’t just the stat. It’s what’s happening around it: people are naming their experience. That’s the beginning of transformation.

For decades, silence shaped how we coped. The idea was to press through, stay grateful, smile for the camera, and never disrupt the tradition. But what we’ve started to see—especially in the last five years—is a shift from silent endurance to conscious engagement. People are giving language to the tension they feel this time of year. And when you can name a thing, you begin to loosen its grip.

A 2022 meta-study in the Journal of Traumatic Stress found that people who engaged in verbal processing of emotional challenges—whether through journaling, peer dialogue, or counseling—were 55% more likely to experience measurable psychological relief over the course of six months than those who internalized those same stressors. Simply put: naming pain reduces its power.

And it goes further. The Center for Healing and Justice Through Sport reported that trauma-informed practices, rooted in honest reflection and community accountability, improved self-regulation and empathy in adults returning from incarceration by over 40% within just one year of release. That’s not fluff—that’s data telling us that vulnerability and honesty don’t weaken us, they anchor us.

So if you find yourself feeling disconnected, overwhelmed, or unsure how to show up this season—start by naming it. Out loud. On paper. In prayer. With someone safe. This is how we start to reclaim space. Not by forcing celebration, but by telling the truth in rooms that were once too quiet.

For survivors of domestic violence, for veterans, for those reentering society after incarceration—the season can bring noise. But there’s also clarity showing up now, more than ever. People are tapping into tools, community, and faith to rewrite the season’s meaning. That’s movement in the right direction.

The hard truth is: not every tradition fits anymore. And that’s okay. What if this year, instead of trying to recreate what was, we start shaping what could be?

Reframing the Season

Reframing isn’t about pretending things are okay—it’s about choosing how we hold what’s real. It’s the practice of pulling your lens back just far enough to see the fuller picture: not just the pain, but the progress. Not just the loss, but the learning. When you reframe, you’re not denying your story—you’re reclaiming authorship over how it gets told from here.

At its core, reframing is cognitive. In psychology, it’s a cornerstone of trauma recovery and resilience-building. According to Dr. Dennis Charney, Dean of Mount Sinai School of Medicine and expert on post-traumatic growth, individuals who develop the ability to reinterpret adversity are significantly more likely to not only recover—but to grow in the aftermath. That doesn’t mean the hardship disappears. It means its role in your life changes.

And here’s why that matters: our thoughts shape how our brain works and responds. When we shift how we think about an experience, we influence how our brain stores, processes, and responds to future experiences. New thinking literally builds new pathways. That’s not just seasonal relief—that’s long-term change.

This is where the holidays offer a powerful window. Because this season comes with built-in pauses—moments where we’re already reflecting, already stepping back from the everyday grind. In those pauses, we have the chance to choose how we relate to our past and present.

Are we replaying old narratives? Or are we rewriting our thoughts. A 2021 study published in Frontiers in Psychology found that consistent cognitive reframing over a 30-day period led to a marked reduction in symptoms of depression and anxiety—and increased self-reported levels of self-efficacy and life satisfaction.

This is what makes reframing valuable—not just for navigating the holidays, but for re-rooting yourself in a life that reflects who you are now. And as that mindset takes hold, it becomes something deeper than coping. It becomes identity.

Redefining How We Show Up

What if we made the shift from pressure to presence? What if this year looked less like keeping up appearances and more like checking in with what’s actually real for us right now?

That’s where this season gets interesting—not in pretending to be okay, but in choosing to live it differently. This doesn’t just serve your peace today. It sets a new standard for how you lead your life moving forward.—what we’re supposed to feel, how we should act, where we ought to be emotionally. But what if we gave ourselves permission to approach it differently?

Start by noticing what’s real. Let this season be about honesty over performance. If it feels like a quiet season, let it be quiet. If there’s joy, let it come in its natural form—not because we forced it, but because we made space for it. Grounding ourselves in truth—even when that truth is complicated—keeps us connected to our inner stability, rather than outsourcing it to how others think the holidays should look.

Open the circle. If you’ve got a little more to give this year—time, space, presence—offer it. Not just gifts wrapped in paper, but the kind wrapped in attention. The kind that says, "I see you." Community isn’t just built in the big gestures; it’s built in small, intentional moments that include others who might otherwise be left out.

Don’t perform joy—practice it. There’s a difference. Performance looks good on the outside but costs a lot to maintain. Practicing joy means cultivating moments that feel meaningful, even if they’re small. It could be a conversation that fills your spirit, a meal you make with intention, or a walk where you breathe differently. This kind of joy roots you in authenticity.

Be willing to start over. The holidays can be a place of rebirth if we allow them to be. Old traditions that once held meaning may no longer fit who you are. That’s not failure—it’s evolution. Creating new traditions allows your present values to take the lead. And when we do that, we don’t just adapt to change—we become the change.

When we choose to redefine how we approach this season, we’re not just surviving it—we’re building new architecture for how we live and relate moving forward. These are not just holiday habits. These are mindset shifts that can shape the way we engage life year-round.

Walking through neighborhoods, sitting in rooms with men and women reshaping their lives, I carry this truth:

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” Kahlil Gibran

We don’t celebrate because everything’s perfect. We celebrate because we’re still here. Still refining. Still rising.

So this season, shift your posture. Open your lens. Make room for something new. Not as a reaction—but as a declaration.

You’ve come too far to stand still now.

-Troy Rienstra