The holidays are over. Now what?
The holidays are over, at least for us Christmas lovers. The lights are coming down. The group chats are dead. No one is texting “omg we need to get together” anymore because everyone knows we absolutely will not.
And now you feel worse.
Not refreshed. Not inspired. And not even remotely optimistic with a fresh planner and a stupid little pen that says “start new chapters.”
Just fatigued. Sad. Maybe irritable. Maybe weirdly numb. Maybe all of the above.
And honestly, it makes sense.
During the holidays, most people are running on borrowed nervous system energy. You’re circus juggling expectations, memories you didn’t ask for, unspoken grief, financial stress, overstimulation from travel, family drama that hasn’t changed since 2004, nicknames you hate, and the truly baffling social pressure to appear holly jolly about it all.
Your body does what bodies do in those situations. It snaps into action and white knuckles you through.
Then the carols stops. All the good Christmas specials on TV are over. The tree is gone. You vaccumed up the last pine needle. You’ve stuffed the decorations into a box on the top shelf labeled “JOY” that now feels vaguely threatening. There is nothing and no one left to perform for.
Once the noise dies down, the emotional bill for the last month comes due. All at once. And don’t even ask about Klarna, queen.
That’s why the week after the holidays often feels even heavier than the holidays themselves. There is no magical merry script to follow. No social calendar forcing you forward. No last-minute adrenaline rush when you realize you are out of flour at 5:55 pm and the store closes at 6:00. No external structure holding things together.
It’s just you, your thoughts, and whatever feelings were sitting patiently in the corner, smirking, hands folded ever so politely, waiting for you to slow down long enough to dare to make eye contact.
It can feel like a total emotional crash out. That’s because your nervous system finally has the airtime to tell you what it’s been needing to since Thanksgiving, patient sassy diva that she is.
A lot of people panic here. They assume the crash means all their problems from 2025 are bound to barrel straight into 2026. Or that they should feel better by now and what the hell is wrong with them. Or that they’re failing because they are not energized, hopeful, and ready to transform their entire life by next Thursday (happy early New Year, y’all).
The “New Year, New You” fantasy is a great sales tactic for planners and productivity apps, but it just isn’t how our bodies are wired. Especially not bone-tired ones like I know yours is.
What tends to show up in quiet moments like this is information:
Grief that didn’t get airtime.
Anger that had nowhere to let off the steam.
That fucked up comment your uncle made that annoyed you in the moment and now, a week later, has you absolutely livid.
Exhaustion that was masked by momentum.
If you can slow down enough to actually listen, none of this is really a problem. It’s just data. Information about what your system needed and didn’t get.
If you’re feeling flat, foggy, or raw right now, that doesn’t mean 2026 is doomed. 2026 is doomed for plenty of reasons, but your nervous system is not one of them. (Kidding. Mostly. I think. Depends on the day.)
If you can interrupt the anxiety spiral long enough to stay curious, this post-holiday muckity muck can become useful data. Uncomfortable, usually. But often clarifying. Data like:
What drained you more than you could afford to admit in the moment.
What you tolerated because it felt easier than pushing back.
What triggered you, and, more importantly, why.
What helped, even a little. (Shout out to my group chats for getting me through the last week)
What you really do not want to carry forward in 2026 just because you always have.
What you are DONE pretending is fine.
And let’s be realistic so we don’t pile on even more pressure. You don’t need a plan yet. You don’t need clarity. You definitely don’t need a vision board or a mantra of the year.
You just need honest noticing.
Noticing this kind of stuff usually sucks. It’s heavy and uncomfortable. And, at the same time, it’s the cornerstone of change. When we notice the drain, we can often notice the pain. And sometimes, if we are lucky, we can also notice what we need.
So, if the holidays are over and it feels like you got hit by a semi, congrats bestie.
You’re no longer dissociating (sorry, I know that’s your happy place). You’re finally paying attention.
And that is a pretty damned good place to start to make life feel better.
Here’s to post-holiday honesty and introspection. Here’s to letting the body say what it needs.
And hey, if you need somewhere to unload all the WILDLY inappropriate and unhinged shit that went down over the last month, a friendly reminder that us therapists are extremely here for the tea.
See you back in 2026.
Stay curious.