When the Holidays Hurt After Going No Contact

Going no contact with your family is a kind of grief no one sends a card for. 

When I made that decision, I knew my life would change forever. I knew I’d be grieving the loss of that relationship. 

But, the first year I went no contact, I thought the holidays would be the first time that year I’d feel normal– happy, even. But, instead, it was the most depressing part of that year. The holidays weren’t magic for me. 

My friends would talk about their plans to go home and see family, to call their moms, to buy obnoxious amounts of Christmas presents. It all served as reminders, over and over again, of what I didn’t have.

But here’s what I had to remind myself, especially in that first year: if the holidays felt today the way they did when I was a kid, I’d be around people who didn’t care about my well-being. I’d be buying an obnoxious amount of presents for people who wouldn’t do the same for me. I was grieving the family I always wanted and needed.

When you’re navigating life after going no contact, grief shows up when you wonder if you could’ve done more before getting to this point. It shows up in the unsolicited advice from people who “just can’t imagine cutting off their parents” (because they have great ones). It feels like pity from others that flattens your story into something tragic instead of something brave.

But here’s what doesn’t get said enough: Choosing no contact requires an enormous amount of emotional maturity. You don’t make that decision lightly. You make it because you’ve learned how to set boundaries: even when it hurts, even when it costs you relationships, and even when the person on the other side is your own parent. 

And honestly? If you don’t take shit from your mom, you’re probably not taking shit from anyone.

Whether you’re navigating the holidays or everyday life, remember: you’ve made the difficult decision to go no-contact with someone you love. You’ve decided to take your life into your own hands. 

And while you mourn what you lost– the family, the fantasy, the version of holidays you wished you had– something else begins to happen, almost by accident: You start building a chosen family.

Maybe one December you wake up in your best friend’s childhood home, opening presents her mom picked out just for you, finally learning what safe love feels like. Or maybe it’s quieter than that: just you, your cat, a mug of hot cocoa, and Home Alone.

There’s no perfect timeline. No cure-all. No one “right” way to do things.

But no matter how your holidays look now, the love you poured into yourself when you chose no contact, that same love is still there today.

And it’s your greatest strength.

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