Do you love or hate the holidays?
Some people can’t wait for the lights, the music, and the traditions. Others secretly wish they could crawl under a weighted blanket and re-emerge on January 2nd.
If you’re caring for aging parents, supporting kids or young adults, managing chronic pain, and trying to keep up with holiday expectations, the season can feel less “magical” and more like being squeezed in a vise.
What I’ve learned over the years is this:
You may not be able to change your circumstances or skip the holidays entirely, but you can change how you move through them.
This post is for you if:
You’re caring for a parent or other loved one and feel guilty that you’re “not doing enough.”
You’re a mom whose child or young adult lives across the country, and the distance stings a little extra this time of year.
You’re managing chronic pain or health challenges and the holiday pace feels especially brutal.
You’re just… tired. Emotionally, physically, spiritually.
Let’s talk about some gentle, realistic ways to get through the holidays with a bit more grace and a little less white-knuckling.
The holiday season has a way of turning up the volume on everything you’re already carrying.
You might be coordinating medical appointments, transportation, and meals for an aging parent who doesn’t want to admit they need help.
You’re still trying to “show up” for your child or young adult, even if she lives across the country now and the visits are fewer and farther between.
You may be working, budgeting carefully, fighting your own chronic pain, and trying to keep your home and relationships afloat.
On top of that, there are invitations, expectations, gift lists, travel logistics, family dynamics, and the constant message that this is supposed to be “the most wonderful time of the year.”
No wonder so many caregivers and moms feel like they’re failing.
If this is you: you’re not failing. You’re human. And you’re carrying a lot.
These practices don’t require a full day off, a spa budget, or everything magically calming down. They’re designed for real life in the thick of caregiving, mom guilt, and chronic pain.
This is still one of my favorite tools because it works anywhere.
Close your eyes, soften your shoulders, and take a few slow belly breaths: in through your nose and out through your mouth..
an island with warm sand under your feet,
a hammock on a quiet beach,
a cabin in the woods,
a favorite spot in the mountains.
Use all your senses. What does it smell like? Sound like? Feel like on your skin?
Let your body respond as if you’re really there, even for 90 seconds.
You’re not “escaping reality.” You’re giving your nervous system a brief, powerful reset so you can return to your real life a little steadier.
Caregiver tip: Try this in the car before you go into a medical appointment, before a holiday gathering, or after a hard phone call.
If you’re in an intense caregiving season, this may not be the year for:
elaborate meals from scratch,
perfectly decorated everything,
saying yes to every invitation.
Ask yourself: If I lowered the bar by 30% this year, what would that actually look like?
Maybe it means:
Buying pre-made sides instead of cooking everything.
Choosing one small tradition that matters most and letting the others go.
Telling a friend, “I’d love to see you, but can we have a low-key coffee instead of a big party?”
Lowering the bar is not a failure. It’s wisdom—and it’s part of sustainable caregiving and self-care. It’s also setting an emotional boundary that protects you.
This might sound counterintuitive when you already feel stretched so thin, but small, intentional acts of kindness can lift your mood and reconnect you to who you are beyond your to-do list.
It doesn’t have to be big or expensive:
Pay for the coffee of the person behind you in line.
Leave a kind note on a neighbor’s doorstep.
Donate a small gift card, food item, or warm clothing to a local shelter.
Text another caregiver just to say, “Thinking of you. You’re not alone.”
Someone did this for me on a particularly stressful day (paid for my drink in a drive-thru) and it shifted my entire day. Sometimes helping someone else reminds us that we’re part of a larger web of care, not just the ones holding everything together.
We all think we’re breathing, but most of us are taking short, shallow breaths—especially when we’re stressed, angry, or overwhelmed.
Try this simple pattern:
Inhale through your nose for a count of 4.
Hold gently for a count of 2 to 3.
Exhale through your mouth for a count of 6.
Repeat 5–10 times. That’s it.
You can do this:
in a bathroom stall at a family gathering,
in the hallway of a hospital or rehab center,
in bed before you fall asleep,
while waiting on hold with an insurance company.
Intentional breathing is one of the fastest, most accessible ways to calm your nervous system—no equipment, no appointment, and no cost.
One of the themes I hear over and over from caregivers and moms “caught in the middle” is this: “I’m trying to live like everything is normal.”
But things aren’t normal.
You may be in a season of:
active crisis (new diagnosis, medical emergency),
ongoing high-intensity caregiving,
anticipatory grief,
or a big transition with your young adult child living far away.
Naming your season helps you make more compassionate choices:
“We are in a crisis season right now, so we’re doing only the essentials.”
“We are in a rebuilding season, so I’m saying no more often to protect my energy.”
You’re allowed to let your reality—not Hallmark commercials—shape what this holiday looks like.
Mom guilt has a way of whispering, “You’re ruining everything”—especially if:
Your young adult daughter lives across the country and you can’t be together for every holiday.
You can’t travel like you used to.
Your energy and capacity are lower because of chronic pain or caregiving fatigue.
When it’s appropriate and safe, try naming what’s true with your people:
“I love you, and I’m sad we can’t be together this year. Let’s plan a special video call or a new tradition that works across the miles.”
“I’m carrying a lot with Grandma/Grandpa’s care right now, so we’re going to have a simpler holiday this year.”
“My body is struggling, and I need more rest, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
Honesty doesn’t fix everything, but it often releases some of the pressure and lets your loved ones see the whole you—not just the “strong one” who holds it all together.
One of the reasons I created the Caught in the Middle workshop series and started writing more openly about caregiving is because I know how isolating this role can be.
If you’re feeling the weight of holiday caregiving, consider:
Joining spaces—online or local—where you can tell the truth about how you’re doing.
Sharing your story with someone safe who understands the “in-between” of caring for parents while still parenting or supporting your children.
Exploring resources designed specifically for people in this season.
And if mom guilt and long-distance mothering are heavy themes for you right now, keep an eye out (or link) to my recent posts about navigating those emotions and expectations while also tending to your own health and chronic pain.
If this holiday season feels anything but merry and bright, you are not broken—and you’re certainly not alone.
You are a human being doing your best in a very complex, demanding, and tender season of life.
If you need more support, you can:
Read more of my caregiving story here:
👉 Caught in the Middle: What I Learned as a Single Adoptive Mom Caring for My Mother After Her Stroke
Learn about the Caught in the Middle workshop series:
👉 https://lucyseligman.com/caught-in-the-middle
Share your own story or questions with me directly:
📧 Lucy@lucyseligman.com – I read and respond to every message.
And if you know someone else who is “caught in the middle” this holiday season... caring for parents, loving kids or young adults from afar, managing pain or health issues, sharing is caring.
Please feel free to forward this blog to them as a small reminder that they don’t have to walk this road alone.