When the Nervous System Doesn’t Get the Memo

The holidays can be difficult for anyone. The memories, nostalgia, and grief can all sit heavy, but living with CPTSD adds another layer entirely.

It’s not just the feelings that may pop up. it’s the nervous system. While everyone else seems to slip into cozy-mode, your body might be scanning for danger like it’s been assigned night watch. Bright lights, crowded rooms, loud laughter, forced cheer, the same old questions asked by the same old people, it can all feel like too much, too fast, with nowhere to hide.

How the Past Sneaks Into the Present

Holidays have a way of dragging the past into the present. Songs you didn’t ask for. Smells that unlock doors you worked very hard to keep closed. Traditions that look sweet on the outside but were complicated, or outright painful, behind the scenes. CPTSD doesn’t care that it’s “supposed to be a happy time.” It responds to patterns, reminders, and emotional landmines, certainly not greeting cards.

The Pressure to Perform “Happy”

And then there’s the expectation piece. The unspoken rule that you should be grateful, joyful, connected. That this is the time to gather, to perform closeness, to smooth over old wounds with turkey and small talk. If your trauma is relational, as it often is with CPTSD, being around family or partners can feel less like comfort and more of a struggle. You’re dealing with histories, roles, and unhealed dynamics while pretending everything is fine.

Even if your family situation is safe now, your body may still not be caught up quite yet. You might feel irritable, shut down, hypervigilant, or exhausted without being able to point to a single reason why. You might cancel plans at the last minute. Or you might want connection desperately and also want everyone to stay ten feet away. Both can be true.

Grief That Doesn’t Always Announce Itself

There’s also grief, sometimes obvious, and sometimes sneaky. Grief for people who are gone. The childhood you didn’t get. And grief for holidays you imagined might one day feel different. The season has a way of highlighting gaps: what is versus what should have been. And CPTSD is very good at keeping score.

One of the hardest parts? The shame spiral. Telling yourself you’re “too sensitive,” “ruining it,” or “being dramatic.” Comparing your insides to everyone else’s curated outsides. Wondering why this still affects you when you’ve done so much work already. Trauma healing isn’t straight forward, and the holidays are notorious for poking at unfinished business.

You’re Not Failing at Healing

This is something I talk about openly on my podcast, how healing doesn’t magically pause triggers, and how the holidays can amplify everything we’re already carrying. If listening feels easier than reading right now, you can find the podcast here: Podcast

So let me say this clearly: struggling during the holidays does not mean there is anything wrong with that. You aren’t ungrateful, or failing at healing. It means your system learned how to survive in difficult conditions, and it hasn’t forgotten.

Permission to Do the Holidays Differently

You are allowed to opt out of traditions that hurt. To leave early, arrive late, or not go at all. You are allowed to build new rituals that actually feel regulating, even if that looks boring or “unfestive” to other people. Pajamas count. Silence counts. Ordering takeout counts.

Getting Through Is Enough

If this season feels heavy, try meeting yourself with curiosity instead of criticism. Ask what your body needs, not what the calendar demands. Sometimes that need is rest. It can be distance. Sometimes it’s connection on your terms, a walk, a quiet conversation, a moment of honesty instead of forced cheer.

Healing doesn’t mean holidays suddenly become magical. Sometimes it just means you recognize what’s happening sooner, offer yourself more compassion, and choose safety over performance.

If you’re struggling right now, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to make this season something it isn’t. Getting through it, gently, imperfectly, is more than enough.

Photo by Andrei Andreew on Unsplash