Keeping the Holidays Bright

This year’s holiday season feels heavier than usual. The election was devastating for me—not because of who won, but because I feel common decency lost. The person elected represents values I deeply oppose: dishonesty, cruelty, and manipulation. Their victory felt like a personal blow to the kind of world I want to live in—maybe even a nuclear blast. But the hardest part isn’t the election itself—it’s the reactions of some of my family members.

A couple of people I care about are ecstatic about the outcome. For them, this is a victory worth celebrating, and they’ve made it their mission to make sure I hear about it, spamming me with calls, emails, and texts full of excitement that make my heart sink. Now, as we gather in person for the holidays, the challenge feels even greater.

Maybe they’re not trying to hurt me. Maybe they simply can’t contain their excitement. Maybe they’re still trying to get me to drink their Kool-Aid. I don’t know, but it’s overwhelming and feels like a constant poke at everything I’m mourning, and being face-to-face only makes it harder to escape.

I’ve wrestled with whether I’m being too sensitive, but I’ve realized that this isn’t about overreacting—it’s about recognizing what I need to feel okay. For me, this election wasn’t just about politics; it was about the patriotic glue that binds citizens together through shared American traditions and values, specifically those rooted in democracy and the rule of law. Losing that feels personal, and their unfiltered celebration is frightening and cuts deeper than they apparently realize.

So, I’ve decided to handle the holidays in a way that keeps the focus on what matters most: our deeper love for each other and the personal history we share. That means doing what I can to steer things away from politics and toward things we still hold near and dear.

Before we even gather, I’ve made it clear I’d rather keep the conversation away from the election. I’ve said things like, “We’ve all been through a lot this year—let’s make the holidays about family and the fun stuff, not politics.” It’s my way of keeping the tone lighter and reminding everyone why we’re there.

During the celebrations, I’ll do what I can to keep things on track. If the conversation derails into politics, I’ll change the subject—“Speaking of winning, did you see that game last week?” Or, “I’d love to hear about the new recipe you tried.” I’m determined to keep things positive without getting drawn into arguments or debates.

If things still get overwhelming, I’ll step back when I need to. That might mean offering to help in the kitchen, taking a quick walk, or even ducking into another room for a moment of quiet. I’m not going to feel guilty about taking a breather. The holidays are meant to be enjoyed, and I want to be happy while I’m there.

I’m also focusing on what brings me joy. I’m spending time with people who share my outlook and putting energy into traditions and causes that matter to me. These things remind me that, even when the bigger picture feels hard, there are still ways to hold on to hope and purpose.

This season isn’t easy, but I’m determined to make it special. Keeping things peaceful doesn’t mean I agree with everything being said, and looking after myself doesn’t mean I care any less for my friends and family. I’m doing my best to find a way forward, knowing that what matters most is the love we share—even when it’s complicated, even when it feels hard.

If you find yourself in a similar situation over the holidays, I wish you a peaceful Thanksgiving and hope you’ll find your own way of coping with those who seem bent on bullying you for voting according to your own convictions.