- In January 2013, I realized I had a holiday hangover and was exhausted.
- All I wanted to do was go back to bed and stay there for the rest of the month.
Seven years ago, I shuffled out of bed one early-January morning, and all I wanted to do was crawl back in it for the entire month. I had a lot of exciting work opportunities in the months ahead and was finally in a solid relationship. But that day, my heavy limbs and knotted chest whispered despair.
Over coffee, I realized what it was: I had a terrible holiday hangover. It wasn't from drinking, since I didn't do much of that, but from attending six weeks of parties, family events, and social obligations, at the expense of my need for rest and connection with my partner.
From Thanksgiving on, we went from one indulgent event to the next, and in between, my partner and I bickered about whose parties, family, and work obligations were more important and how much time we needed to spend at each.
It took a toll on our relationship
When I complained to my partner about how busy we were, how bloated I felt, and how exhausting all the commuting was, he complained that I was always complaining.
This wasn't how either of us imagined our holiday season would go. But that was part of the problem: We had never imagined anything specific about it. We had not made conscious choices about how we were going to spend our time together. I never established — and therefore didn't communicate — my needs for rest, pacing, or alone time.
I discovered my needs only after feeling resentful that they weren't being met.
Now we have a holiday 'huddle' weeks before they start
I decided I never wanted to feel that depleted at the start of a new year again. That's how the "holiday huddle" was born: an annual preseason meeting I designed with my significant other to discuss our wishes, needs, and our own expectations — as well as the often silent and seductive expectations of others.
In mid-November, my now-husband and I write down what we each fantasize about doing for the holidays, even though it probably won't happen, like a beach vacation on a remote island; what we need, like unstructured time to lounge around together; and what others, like family and work, expect from us.
Then we share our visions and collaborate about which events to attend and how to stay connected to ourselves and each other as we face the onslaught of holiday celebrations.
The first step is fun. It can even be magical. One year, I fantasized that I wanted to explore a faraway land, to be on a ship in an exotic place. The next year, it came true: My parents, who had "boating around the Galápagos Islands" on their bucket list, invited us to join them on their trip.
Sometimes, the huddle's second and third steps require serious negotiations. Thanksgiving is important to my father; he wants us all to be there with him. But one year, my husband balked, saying: "I haven't seen my brother in forever. I'd like to spend it with him."
It had been a grueling fall workwise, and his brother lived in a warm, tropical place. We both needed a getaway, and there was a free place to stay by a beach. My father would be disappointed, but visiting my husband's brother met more of our needs.
Laying out all of our needs has the added benefit of allowing us to economize. The first year we did the huddle, we had also gotten engaged, so we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for both our families that doubled as an engagement party. Since we had spent significant time during Thanksgiving with all of our family, we felt entitled to spend the holidays guilt-free holed up in a relative's Vermont condo, where we watched the snow, went for long wintry walks, and caught up on several streaming series.
That year and every year since, having constructive holiday huddles with my husband, followed by setting reasonable expectations with friends and family, allows us to face the new year with energy, clarity, and greater peace of mind.