The Dark Side of the Holidays

Before I begin, I want to say this upfront: I know this post may be a little controversial. Many people genuinely love this season, and I respect that. I also want to be clear: I don’t have this figured out. I’m writing this very much in process.

If you’ve found rhythms, boundaries, or mindsets that help you walk through December with more peace and less exhaustion, I’d honestly love to learn from you. What follows isn’t a conclusion. It’s a reflection. One written while looking in the mirror.

The Dark Side of the Holidays

By the time January arrives, I’m usually worn out.

December has a way of doing that to me. The calendar fills up fast. We buy gifts. Wrap gifts. Decorate. Load the car. Drive to see family. Drive some more. We try to be everywhere and everything for everyone. The days feel jam-packed, and the nights get shorter.

And life doesn’t stop just because it’s Christmas.

The laundry still needs to be done.

The house still needs to be cleaned.

Kids still need care.

Work still demands attention.

Honestly, this busyness is the main reason I didn't write during the month of December. I kept meaning to sit down and put words on the page, but the days filled up faster than I expected. Work deadlines, travel, family commitments, and the mental weight of trying to keep everything moving left very little margin. And in a strange way, my silence became part of the story I’m trying to tell here.

For those of us who work full-time, December can feel especially heavy. We’re trying to squeeze a full month’s worth of responsibility into fewer days so we can make room for vacations. Deadlines pile up. Emails don’t slow down.

And then there’s January.

The dread of restarting work with an inbox already full. Projects waiting. Deadlines looming. A sense of being behind before the year even really begins. Instead of feeling refreshed, it often feels like stepping back onto a treadmill that never stopped moving.

Most years, I don’t enter January energized.

I enter January tired. Not ungrateful, just depleted.

The Hustle We Normalize

We don’t often talk about how exhausting December really is, because so much of it is good.

Family time is a gift.

Traditions matter.

Seeing people we love is meaningful.

But there’s also a level of hustle we’ve come to accept as normal.

We drain bank accounts trying to meet a gift-giving standard that quietly escalates every year. We let routines slide: less sleep, more sugar, fewer quiet moments. We live out of suitcases with packed schedules.

And somewhere in all of that, we tell ourselves: This is just how the season works.

Jesus offers a different kind of invitation:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 (ESV)

Not after the season ends.

Not once everything is checked off.

But right in the middle of the labor.

And here’s the honest part: I don’t really know what to do with that yet. I don’t know how much of the hustle we should challenge, what traditions we should rethink, or what parts of the season are worth the cost. I’m still sorting that out. This reflection isn’t me prescribing change. It’s me admitting tension.

Honoring the Good Without Ignoring the Cost

I don’t want to dismiss the beauty of December.

There is something genuinely good about gathering with family, reconnecting with people we don’t see often, and sharing meaningful moments. There’s also something powerful about a season when (even briefly) more people are thinking about Jesus, singing about hope, and talking about light.

That matters.

But acknowledging the good doesn’t require pretending the cost isn’t real.

Even the moments we treasure most (the laughter, the conversations, the late nights with family) still require energy. Good doesn’t always mean easy.

Exhaustion doesn’t mean we did the season wrong. Fatigue isn’t a sign of spiritual failure. Feeling drained doesn’t cancel out our gratitude.

It simply means we’re human.

Energy That Gives and Energy That Drains

One thing I’m trying to reflect on more honestly is how December affects my energy.

Some things give life: meaningful conversations, quiet moments with family, shared meals, worship, laughter.

Other things quietly drain it: constant rushing, financial pressure, disrupted sleep, the feeling of being “on” all the time, and the mental load of trying to keep everything together.

The challenge, for me, is that I’m not always great at distinguishing between the two in real time. I tend to keep pushing, assuming rest will come later, instead of pausing to ask what’s actually filling me and what’s emptying me.

Scripture points us toward wisdom here:

“Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom." Psalm 90:12 (ESV)

Wisdom isn’t about doing everything. It’s about discernment.

And discernment starts with awareness, something I’m still learning.

The Loneliness We Rarely Name

There’s another side of Christmas that often gets lost beneath the lights and noise.

Loneliness.

For some, this season highlights what’s missing. Perhaps a loved one who isn’t here anymore, relationships that are strained, or homes that feel quieter than they used to. For others, the gatherings and celebrations only magnify a sense of isolation, reminding them that they don’t quite fit the picture everyone else seems to be living.

Scripture doesn’t shy away from this kind of ache:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 (ESV)

That promise matters deeply at Christmastime.

Because God does not avoid loneliness. He enters it. He draws near to those who feel unseen, overlooked, or forgotten, especially in seasons when joy feels out of reach.

If Christmas feels heavy not because you’re busy, but because you’re hurting, you’re not alone either.

Rest as a Reward (And Why That Doesn't Work)

If I’m being honest, I still tend to treat rest like a reward, something I earn once everything is done.

That’s not healthy. I know that.

But it’s also hard to know where to cut back. Which expectations matter? Which don’t? Which sacrifices are worth making, and which simply drain us?

Again, I wrote most of this post looking inward, not outward.

Psalm 127 says,

“It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest… for he gives to his beloved sleep.” Psalm 127:2 (ESV)

Rest isn’t a luxury for when life calms down. It’s a gift God gives because He knows our limits.

The Pressure to Fix Everything in January

Adding to the weight of December is the message that January is the time to change everything.

New year.

New habits.

New goals.

New resolutions.

There’s a subtle danger here, especially when we’re already exhausted. We take tired bodies, depleted energy, and stretched emotions, and then tell ourselves now is the moment for massive transformation.

Scripture offers a gentler path:

“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion…” Philippians 1:6 (ESV)

God’s work in us is ongoing, not seasonal. Growth doesn’t require dramatic resets. Often it happens slowly, quietly, faithfully, one small step at a time.

January doesn’t need a reinvention. It might just need honesty, patience, and grace.

When the New Year Begins and We’re Already Spent

January doesn’t ease us back in.

The calendar flips.

Vacation ends.

Work resumes.

Routines restart.

And many of us step into the new year already tired: physically, emotionally, financially, spiritually.

Paul reminds us:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)

The new year doesn’t require strength. It invites honesty.

So let me ask you…

As I ask myself the same questions:

• Which parts of December gave me energy, and which quietly depleted it?

• Where am I still treating rest as something I have to earn?

• Where has this season felt lonely or heavy for me?

• What expectations, mine or others’, might need to be reconsidered next year?

• How could I invite God into my limits instead of fighting them?

A Closing Word for Fellow Pilgrims

If you’re entering the new year tired, you’re not behind, and you’re not alone.

If you’re entering it lonely, grieving, or quietly hurting, you’re not forgotten.

God does not measure our faith by our energy level or our emotional state. He meets us in our weariness, draws near in our loneliness, and walks with us as we slowly rebuild strength, rhythms, and hope.

The new year doesn’t demand a sprint. It invites a steady walk.

And Christ is faithful to walk it with us.

Until the journey is complete,

Jonathan Pilgrim

P.S. As the year begins, choose one small act of kindness toward yourself: earlier sleep, a quiet prayer, a slower morning, etc. Let recovery be part of your faith, not something you feel guilty about.