Helladay vs Holiday: Surviving the Season After Divorce
“If you don't like the road you're walking, start paving another one.” – Dolly Parton
Welcome to a New Chapter: Helladay vs Holiday
Split holidays. Fake smiles. Exhausted joy.
Welcome to helladay season.
If you know, you know.
It’s the time of year when everyone seems to be bursting with cocoa-fuelled cheer, and you… you are just trying to keep your peace intact. You’re managing pick-up times, parenting plans, your ex’s passive-aggressive texts, and the crushing pressure to make it magical for everyone except yourself.
Whether it’s Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, Easter, Thanksgiving, or even a birthday — this stretch of the calendar has a way of poking right at the tender spots. The grief. The guilt. The gap where your old traditions used to be.
And for many divorced women, the season becomes a quiet war zone of emotional landmines.
The day your child leaves with your ex to celebrate with their new family.
The photo on social media that hits too hard.
The forced smile around people who don’t know what to say — or worse, say nothing at all.
The deep ache that you're the only one noticing what’s missing.
Some holidays aren't just about presents... they are about presence.
Others? About pretending.
Let’s Just Call It What It Is
Some days aren’t holy. They’re hellish.
Not because you’re bitter. But because you’re honest.
Let’s be real — nothing about navigating the holidays after divorce feels natural. One minute you’re elbow-deep in your grandma’s stuffing recipe, trying to feel festive… the next, you’re bawling into the mixing bowl because your kid won’t be with you until Boxing Day.
Even if your life looks stable on the outside, inside can still feel like static. Like everyone else is hugging it out under twinkle lights while you’re off to the side, casserole in hand, trying to keep it together.
And let’s not forget:
Your ex might be treating the holiday like a game of power-play chess.
Your child might be exhausted from bouncing between homes.
You might be grieving a version of the season that no longer exists — even if you don’t miss the relationship.
Whatever’s coming up for you — the grief, the guilt, the numbness, the short fuse — it’s valid. Every damn bit of it.
There’s no emotional dress code here.
Lower the Bar. And Then Lower It Again.
This is not the year for perfect wrapping paper and curated joy.
This is the year for simplicity, softness, and survival.
You don’t have to fake it.
You don’t have to be okay with it.
You don’t have to make it magical for anyone but your damn self.
Whether you celebrate the holiday on the day-of or the day-after, what matters is meaning.
And meaning doesn’t follow a calendar.
Maybe your tradition becomes tacos in pyjamas on the 23rd.
Maybe it’s a slow walk with your dog and a good cry on the 25th.
Maybe it’s FaceTime hugs, flexible expectations, and fiercely protecting your peace.
Here’s the truth no one says out loud:
You are not less of a parent — or a woman — if your holiday looks different now.
You are not broken because this season brings up more grief than gratitude.
You are still doing something beautiful: showing up with heart, even when it hurts.
What if You Rewrote the Rules?
Helladays don’t last forever. But they do teach you something:
How to hold your own joy sacred — even when it’s messy, even when it’s late, even when it’s small.
This is your permission slip to stop performing and start preserving.
Preserve your peace.
Preserve your sanity.
Preserve your right to feel whatever the hell you feel without explaining it to anyone.
Let the holiday be what it needs to be.
Not what it was.
Not what it should be.
Not what makes your ex look better on Facebook.
Just what you — and your beautiful, brave heart — can manage right now.
And if all else fails?
Opt out. Log off. Light a candle and remind yourself: surviving is sacred too.
Not signed up for the newsletter yet?
Click here to have it delivered right to your fingertips!
