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The holidays are supposed to be a small oasis: warm lights, predictable songs, the occasional overcooked turkey and the relief of time set aside for people we care about. Lately that oasis feels a lot smaller — crowded by nonstop bad news, political quarrels and a personal weariness I can’t pretend isn’t age-tinged. If you’ve felt the season losing its shine, you’re not alone.
It’s easy to blame the weather or a sour mood, but two forces stand out: a news cycle that specializes in grimness and public policy that leaves many of us clenching our wallets and grievances. That combination has a way of robbing even the most determined holiday cheer. The answer isn’t denial; it’s deliberate work to restore generosity and gratitude to the center of the season.
Why the holiday mood feels thinner this year
Every December seems to bring a fresh slate of crises, but certain moments stick: violent attacks, political theater, and the viral footage that turns tragedy into 24-hour programming fodder. When the day’s headlines are graphic or depressing, it becomes harder to settle into the modest rituals that sneak us back into a sense of normalcy.
Additionally, security measures and urban changes meant to protect us — from concrete blocks and new bollards to heavy-handed signage — can sap the romance from public festivities. What should be a town square full of carolers and lights instead reads like a prepared zone, ready for the worst. That practical caution often translates into an emotional caution: we wrap ourselves in resentment and suspicion, and the holidays suffer.
What growing older does to holiday traditions
Growing older alters the way we celebrate. Where you once stayed out late and laughed until sunrise, the evenings get shorter and your preferred chair develops a proprietary claim on you. Tastes shift toward familiar comforts — a particular holiday film, a certain kind of cake — and you learn to cherish small patterns that make the season feel anchored.
But there’s also the weight of memory. Nostalgia is double-edged: it can be a balm or a standard that reality never quite meets. Old songs that once felt timely suddenly sound like postcards from another era, and that dissonance can sting. Historical reminders — like the fleeting truces that occurred amid terrible wars — prove that joy and sorrow can coexist even in the worst of times. Remembering that doesn’t erase our present anxieties, but it can reframe them.
How politics and policy strain our goodwill
Much of the bitterness around the holidays springs from economic friction. When taxes, deductions, and benefit debates dominate conversation, it’s easy for generosity to feel like a luxury rather than a virtue. People who feel squeezed financially often retreat into a protective posture — guarding their money, their time, even their goodwill.
This kind of political environment fosters suspicion: neighbors become competitors, relatives become expense line items, and impulse to share is replaced by counting the cost. It’s a practical reaction, but one that corrodes the very habits — sharing, lending, small kindnesses — that make the holidays meaningful.
Simple practices to restore holiday goodwill
Reviving the season doesn’t require grand gestures or a sudden change in government. It begins with small, intentional acts that shift attention outward. Below are practical ideas that have real psychological payoff and can be done by nearly anyone:
Commit to one anonymous kindness each day — pay for a stranger’s coffee, leave a gift card for a postal worker, or tuck a small present into a neighbor’s mailbox.
Limit doomscrolling. Set strict times for news checks and protect the rest of your hours for present-moment activities.
Revisit a seasonal story that centers on transformation — Dickens, lesser-known short pieces, or even an old family video that brings you warmth rather than comparison.
Create a micro-ritual: a quiet half-hour of music, a single slice of favorite cake, or a phone call to someone you value. These small anchors add up.
Volunteer a little time. Even an hour at a shelter or a community drive restores perspective and builds real connection.
These efforts are practical, but they also rebuild habits. Generosity and gratitude aren’t mere ornaments for the holidays — they’re skills you can practice every day until they become automatic again.
How to make anonymous giving feel real
There’s a particular satisfaction in doing good without seeking recognition. If you’re hesitant, try a few low-pressure options first: leave books at a Little Free Library, donate through an intermediary that handles the outreach, or send a small gift card to a local food bank. The joy of a discreet act can be surprisingly durable, and the ripple effects often outlast the giver’s memory of the deed.
Using humor and small indulgences to thaw a frosty mood
Self-kindness matters. If you’ve found yourself slipping into heavier drinking, overeating sweets, or watching the same holiday film because it feels safe, acknowledge it without judgement. A shared ritual can be restorative: a familiar movie, a slice of stollen, a favorite cocktail savored with intention rather than as numbing background. These comforts are not failures; used thoughtfully, they help you refill so you can offer your best to others.
And yes, indulging can also become content: perform a few acts of kindness, then share them if you like — accidental or not. A modest, playful performance of goodwill can brighten someone’s feed and nudge others toward similar behavior.
Finding a balance between realism and hope this season
The holidays won’t erase the headlines or fix every policy grievance. But they can be a controlled experiment in optimism. Try trimming back cynicism where it’s performative and reallocating that energy into small, concrete acts of care. Over time, the cumulative effect of modest choices — fewer resentful thoughts, more active kindnesses — will make the season less of a battleground and more of a reprieve.
Simon Evans writes columns for spiked and performs as a stand-up comedian.
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Robert Johnson is a dedicated columnist focusing on political and social debates. With twelve years in editorial writing, he provides nuanced, well‑argued perspectives. His commentaries invite you to form your own views and engage in critical issues.