Not Everyone is Counting Down

Every year, starting December 1st, the countdown begins.

Advent calendars are opened. Holiday movies play on repeat. Conversations fill with excitement about traditions, plans, and everything people can’t wait for. And every year, I watch that countdown from the outside.

Because while so many people are counting down the days until Christmas, I’m usually counting the days until it’s over.

I live with depression, and during the holidays it tends to get louder, not quieter. The expectations rise. The memories surface. The pressure to feel joyful, grateful, and present becomes heavy. What many people experience as holiday cheer often shows up for me as the holiday blues — a mix of sadness, exhaustion, and emotional overwhelm that can be hard to explain.

Some years I manage better than others. Some years, simply getting through the season is the accomplishment. These are 25 ways I’ve learned to survive the holidays while living with depression — not perfectly, but honestly.

1. I lower the bar on purpose.
 Doing less doesn’t mean I’m failing; it means I’m listening to what I need.

2. I stop forcing myself to feel festive.
 Depression doesn’t disappear because there are lights and music. Neutral is enough.

3. I let go of pressure around gift-giving. 
Some years I feel inspired and thoughtful when it comes to gifts. Other years, I don’t have the emotional capacity — and I remind myself that my gift is still meaningful because it’s given with love.

4. I give myself permission to opt out.
 If something feels like too much, I let myself step back without guilt.

5. I practice saying no without over-explaining.
 “I can’t this year” is a complete sentence.

6. I choose comfort over performance.
 Soft clothes, quiet nights, familiar shows — I don’t need to impress anyone.

7. I stop trying to keep up with everyone else’s pace.
 The holidays move fast, and depression slows me down. Instead of forcing myself to match the energy around me, I let myself move at the speed my mind and body can handle.

8. I limit social media when it starts to hurt. 
Other people’s highlight reels can deepen my loneliness.

9. I focus on eating something, even if it’s simple.
 Depression affects appetite; nourishment doesn’t have to be fancy.

10. I remind myself to rest more than usual. 
Emotional exhaustion still counts as exhaustion.

11. I make exit plans for gatherings.
 Knowing I can leave helps me show up at all.

12. I allow myself to be quiet.
 I don’t owe anyone cheerfulness or conversation.

13. I let grief exist alongside the holidays.
 Loss doesn’t pause just because it’s December.

14. I take the season one day at a time.
Thinking about the whole month overwhelms me; today is manageable.

15. I move my body gently. 
Walks, stretching, fresh air — nothing extreme, just enough to breathe.

16. I keep my room a refuge.
 When I have the energy, I don’t just clean my room — I rearrange it, add artistic touches, or make small changes that make it feel more like me. It gives me a sense of control and calm, and I always love it afterward.

17. I create something when the feelings need somewhere to go. 
Whether it’s writing, drawing, coloring, painting, or any kind of art, creating helps me release what I can’t always explain. It doesn’t have to be good — it just has to be honest.

18. I let someone know I’m struggling.
 Not everyone — just someone. Carrying it alone makes it heavier.

19. I accept help when it’s offered, even when it’s uncomfortable. 
Support is not weakness.

20. I skip traditions that hurt more than they heal.
 Just because I’ve always done something doesn’t mean I have to keep doing it.

21. I do small kind things only when they fill me. I do not do things out of obligation or guilt.

22. I’m mindful of alcohol. 
It can numb things temporarily, but it often deepens the sadness later.

23. I reach out for professional support.
 Therapy and medical care have been lifelines, not failures.

24. I remind myself that this season is temporary. 
Even when it feels endless, it will pass.

25. I speak to myself with compassion.
 I’m doing the best I can with what I’m carrying — and that has to be enough.

———

The holidays don’t have to be magical to be meaningful. Sometimes, getting through them is the bravest thing we can do.

If you’re struggling this season, please know this: you are not broken, ungrateful, or alone. Not everyone is counting down to Christmas. Some of us are counting breaths, days, and small moments of peace — and that counts too.