Your Body Keeps the Holiday Score: A Guide to Holiday Relationships

By Jen Bennethum

When your nervous system has the guest list memorized.

The Body Already Knows

Your shoulders are already bracing for Thanksgiving dinner or even the month of December with holidays and holiday parties. That's not catastrophizing—it's your body remembering every holiday that left you feeling small, unseen, or scrambling to earn your place at the table. This year, what if we started there? With the wisdom of a body that knows exactly what it's walking into.

Your body is a meticulous record-keeper. It remembers the tone of voice that meant criticism was coming. The particular silence that preceded judgment. The way the air felt different when you weren't meeting expectations. These aren't conscious memories—they're cellular. Your muscles learned to brace, your breath learned to shallow, your stomach learned to knot. All without your permission, all in service of survival.

Notice what happens when you even think about the holidays. Maybe your jaw clenches reflexively. Perhaps your chest gets that hollow, carved-out sensation. Your throat might tighten as if preparing to swallow words you'll never be allowed to say. Some feel it as sudden fatigue—the body's way of saying "I can't do this again." Others experience a restless energy, an urge to flee before you've even arrived.

These responses happened for good reasons. That tension protected you from saying the thing that would make it worse. That fatigue kept you from fighting battles you couldn't win. That hypervigilance helped you navigate emotional minefields. Your body adapted brilliantly to survive environments where authentic expression wasn't safe. Where love came with conditions. Where belonging required performance.

The tragedy isn't that your body responds this way—it's that it had to learn these adaptations in the first place. In relationships meant to be safe harbors, you became a master meteorologist, constantly reading the emotional weather, adjusting your sails before the storm hit.

Where Attachment Wounds Live

Attachment wounds aren't just memories—they're held in your tissues. That chest-cave feeling when you see their car in the driveway. The throat-close when someone asks "why don't you have kids yet?" Sudden exhaustion at the thought of explaining your life choices again. The way your breathing shallows when that relative's name comes up.

This isn't broken—it's protective intelligence. Your body is trying to keep you safe from repetitions of old pain. Thank it, then let's work with it.

Mapping Your Window of Holiday Tolerance

The window of tolerance is your nervous system's sweet spot—the zone where you can handle stress without getting overwhelmed or shutting down. Think of it like a river between two banks. When you're in the river (your window), you're flowing—you can think clearly, connect with others, and respond rather than react. But trauma, especially relational trauma, narrows this river.

One bank is hyperarousal—the flood. This is where anxiety, panic, anger, and overwhelm live. Your heart races, thoughts spiral, you might snap at someone or feel the urgent need to escape. The other bank is hypoarousal—the freeze. Here you go numb, disconnected, foggy. You're there but not there, smiling but vacant, your body present while your mind floats somewhere safer.

During holidays with attachment wounds, that river becomes a trickle. What might be normal stress for others (greeting relatives, answering questions about your life) sends a person with these wounds crashing into one bank or the other. They might ping-pong between them—flooded with anxiety while getting ready, then numb and disconnected at dinner.

Pre-event planning means knowing what fills your battery (morning walk, calling a safe friend, your playlist) and what drains it fastest (specific topics, certain voices, obligation touching). What's your minimum charge to show up? Maximum time before needing a reset?

The Somatic Survival Toolkit

For the car before going in, try 4-7-8 breathing to down-regulate. Bilateral body tapping works wonders—cross-body shoulder taps (looks like a butterfly hug) for 30 seconds. Or try "emotional flossing"—shake it out like an animal would (like when a deer that was frozen in the headlights will shiver or shake it out when recovering).

The bathroom can become your regulation sanctuary. Cold water on wrists or splashed on your face creates a vagus nerve reset. Try the butterfly hug for 60 seconds. If you can manage it (with a big enough bathroom and it might feel silly but it works), legs-up-the-wall creates an instant nervous system shift.

For the dinner table freeze, press your feet into the floor for grounding through pressure. Trace figure-8s on your thigh for bilateral stimulation. Use the "5-4-3-2-1" sensing technique without anyone knowing.

Micro-Dosing Connection

Forget healing the whole relationship. What's the smallest dose of connection your body can tolerate? Consider 15 minutes of surface chat versus 3 hours of performed intimacy. Helping in the kitchen offers task-focused interaction rather than sitting still for interrogation. Bringing a puzzle or game creates structured interaction instead of open-ended catching up.

Exit strategies are acts of love. "I have a work call at 3pm" works even if the call is to your own voicemail. Mysterious "errands" always need running. Sometimes the most honest response is "I'm at capacity and need to go tend to myself."

When Your Body Says No

Some years, not going IS the healing. If your body floods with panic at the thought, listen. You can send a card without your body. Have a phone call with an exit button. Choose your own celebration that doesn't require performing "fine."

This season can be a memorial for the safety you didn't get, the attunement that wasn't there, the unconditional love that had too many conditions. Light a candle for the child-you who deserved better. That's healing too.

The Revolutionary Act of Good Enough

You don't owe anyone your nervous system. You can love them AND limit exposure. Wish them well AND stay home. Honor the relationship AND honor your capacity. Show up imperfectly AND still be worthy.

Your Quick Reference Guide

Keep these truths in your pocket: Your bathroom equals your regulation station. "Interesting" becomes your response to invasive questions. Feet on floor creates instant grounding. "I'll think about that" works as boundary magic. Your car serves as your decompression chamber. Tomorrow is when you'll recover.

Moving Forward with Body Wisdom

Your body's resistance isn't the problem—it's the solution it found to survive. This holiday season, what if you became deeply curious about what your body needs to feel safe? Not to override its wisdom, but to work with it. Because sometimes the most trauma-informed thing you can do is trust your trauma responses. They kept you alive. Now let's help them know you're safe enough to choose.

As you navigate this season, remember that healing doesn't mean tolerating the intolerable. It means honoring the intelligence of a nervous system that's been keeping track all along. Surviving is enough. Protecting yourself is necessary. And choosing your capacity over others' expectations? That's the revolution that starts in your bones and radiates outward, one boundary at a time. Please feel free to reach out to us at Integrate Therapy and Wellness Collective if you would like us to us to join you while you walk through your journey to wholeness.