Mental Medicine: It’s OK To Skip Family Holidays

The holidays come with a lot of glitter, a lot of pressure, and a whole lot of “but that’s just what we do every year.”

But here’s the quiet truth that doesn’t get a shiny Hallmark commercial:
You are not obligated to spend the holidays with people who make you feel small, unsafe, disrespected, or exhausted.

You are allowed to tap out. Full stop.

This isn’t about being “dramatic” or “holding grudges.” This is about mental health, emotional safety, and protecting your peace — even when the world keeps yelling “family first!” at every turn.

Step One: Take the Temperature of Your Family Environment

Before you decide whether to go or not, gently ask yourself: What does it actually feel like to be around my family? Not the idea of them. Not the nostalgia. The reality.

Run a quick self-check:

• Do you feel your chest tighten when you think about seeing them?
• Do you leave family gatherings feeling drained, criticized, or numb?
• Are your boundaries regularly ignored or laughed off?
• Is there yelling, shaming, gossip, or constant “jokes” at your expense?
• Do you feel like you have to shrink who you are just to keep the peace?

If your body is already saying “absolutely not” while your brain is saying “but it’s the holidays…” — that’s a sign.

Your feelings are not overreactions. They’re information. (Plenty of therapists will tell you your nervous system often clocks the danger long before your logic does.)

Our Reality: “Accepting”… But Not Really

For us, we chose to stay away. As part of the LGBTQ+ community, our family is “accepting” — but their actions say otherwise.

They follow a religion that hurts us and doesn’t see our full humanity.
They don’t celebrate us in any real way.
Their political views — especially in today’s climate — do not protect or support us.

They refuse to walk in our shoes or try to understand what it actually means to live in our skin. And on top of all that, they’re casually OK with getting and giving COVID for the 100th time, as if our health and safety are negotiable.

That’s not love in action. That’s not safety. That’s not a space we need to keep sacrificing ourselves for — holiday or not.

For queer folks, this isn’t just “family drama.” It’s survival, dignity, and day-to-day mental health. That’s why so many of us build chosen family — the people who actually show up, listen, and celebrate us without conditions.

You Don’t Need a “Big Reason” to Say No

A lot of us were raised on the idea that unless something extreme is happening, you “owe” it to your family to show up.

Reality check:

• “It makes me feel terrible” is a valid reason.
• “I need rest this year” is a valid reason.
• “I don’t feel emotionally safe there” is more than a valid reason.

You don’t need a courtroom-level explanation to protect your mental health. You’re not on trial for wanting peace.

Therapists talk a lot about boundaries as limits, not punishments. Saying no to a harmful space is you choosing your sanity, not trying to hurt anyone.

If It’s Not OK for You, You’re Not Obligated to Attend

Let’s say it clearly:

If your family environment is not OK for you, you are not obligated to attend holiday gatherings.

Not by tradition.
Not by guilt.
Not by “but that’s your mother/father/sibling.”

You are allowed to step back from:

• The relative who always comments on your body, relationships, job, or life choices.
• The person who weaponizes guilt every time you set a boundary.
• The dynamic where you’re always the peacemaker, the fixer, or the punchline.

Love doesn’t cancel out harm. And DNA doesn’t guarantee safety.

Sometimes the most loving thing you can do for yourself is to stop throwing your heart against the same brick wall every December.

How to Say “No” Without Over-Explaining

You don’t owe anyone your full emotional diary. You can keep it simple, clear, and kind:

• “I’ll be celebrating at home this year, but I hope you all have a great holiday.”
• “Not this year—maybe next year.”
• “I’m keeping things low-key this year and won’t be able to attend.”
• “I won’t be joining this time, but I’m wishing you all well.”

Short, polite, and to the point. They don’t need more information than you’re comfortable giving.

People might react. They might not understand. They might get upset.
Their feelings are theirs to manage. Your job is your well-being — not emotional crowd control.

If You Do Go, You Can Still Protect Yourself

Maybe skipping completely doesn’t feel right this year — or isn’t possible yet. You can still create mini-boundaries:

• Set a time limit for how long you’ll stay.
• Have an exit plan (“I’ll leave if I start feeling overwhelmed or disrespected.”)
• Sit near the people who feel safest, not the loudest.
• Take breaks: step outside, sit in the car for 10 minutes, go for a walk.
• Change the subject or say, “I’m not discussing that,” when conversations cross your line.

Protecting your mental health isn’t all-or-nothing. It can be a series of small choices in your favor.

If you’re queer or otherwise marginalized, it’s also completely fair to say: “If my identity gets disrespected, I’m out.” No debate, no second chances that night.

Building Your Own Version of “Holiday”

If you’re not going to family gatherings, that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to a sad, silent night. You get to redefine what “holiday” means for you.

Think:

• A quiet day with your favorite movies, music, and snacks.
• A “found family” dinner with friends, coworkers, or neighbors.
• Volunteering somewhere that actually fills your heart.
• Ordering takeout and doing absolutely nothing festive if that’s what feels best.
• Making tiny rituals that are yours: a morning walk, a candle you always light, a song you always play.

The point isn’t to recreate some perfect holiday tableau.
The point is to create a day where you feel safe in your own skin.

You’re allowed to make this year the first of many where you stop running on obligation and start building traditions that actually fit your life.

You’re Allowed to Choose You

Stepping back from family during the holidays can feel heavy, lonely, or confusing — especially the first time you do it.

But sometimes the bravest, kindest thing you can do is say:

“This doesn’t feel healthy for me. I deserve better than this.”

You are not selfish for choosing peace.
You are not heartless for choosing distance.
You are not broken for needing something different than what you were handed.

You’re just a human learning how to take care of themselves in a world that doesn’t always make that easy.

And that? That’s some real Mental Medicine.

If your family situation involves emotional, physical, or sexual abuse, or you feel unsafe, consider reaching out to a trusted professional, local support line, or therapist if you’re able. LGBTQ+-affirming hotlines and community centers can also be a lifeline when home doesn’t feel like home.

Got your own holiday boundary story? Have you ever skipped a family gathering to save your sanity? Drop your experience below and let’s talk about what choosing yourself actually looks like.