When the Holidays Hurt: Staying Sober When Everything Around You Says “Celebrate”

The holidays used to feel like magic — the lights, the music, the smell of sugar cookies in the oven. It all felt safe, like the world was wrapped in warmth.

But once addiction and grief entered my life, that same season started to feel heavy. The same songs that once made me smile started breaking my heart. Everywhere I turned, people were celebrating and I was just trying to make it through the day without falling apart.

When you’ve buried people you love and fought battles no one could see, December can feel like a cruel reminder of everything that’s gone. And if you’re in recovery, the pressure to pretend you’re fine during the holidays can feel unbearable.

It’s okay to admit that. You don’t have to fake joy to deserve peace.

How I tried to numb the season away

For years, I coped the only way I knew how: by numbing. I told myself I was just “taking the edge off,” but really, I was drinking and popping pills to escape the ache.

The thing about addiction is, it doesn’t care what month it is. The holidays can be especially dangerous because everything around us screams, “You deserve to celebrate,” but for those of us in recovery, “celebration” can easily turn into self-destruction.

If that’s where you are, please know this: it’s not weakness, it’s wiring. Addiction thrives on isolation, exhaustion, and expectation, all of which show up during the holidays.

If you’re struggling right now, here are some things that helped me:

• Plan your exit: Before you walk into a gathering, know how and when you can leave if it gets uncomfortable.
• Keep a lifeline: Have a friend, sponsor, or support person on standby. Text them before and after events.
• Bring your own drink and always have a drink in your hand: It sounds simple, but having something safe in your hand (soda, coffee, sparkling water) helps more than you think.
• Don’t test yourself: You don’t owe anyone an explanation for why you’re not drinking. Protecting your peace is a full sentence.

I wish someone had told me these tips years ago.

My first sober Christmas

When I finally got sober, I thought the holidays would feel easier. But the truth is, they got realer.

Without the buzz, I felt everything: the sadness, the nostalgia, the fear that I didn’t belong anywhere. Every carol, every empty chair at the table, every memory hit harder than I expected.

But that year, I decided to do things differently. I didn’t chase perfection — I decorate every inch of the house or bake twenty kinds of cookies. I focused on what mattered most: being present, not performing.

I cooked dinner with my boys. We put on festive jammies and watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. That was it. No chaos. No pressure. Just quiet presence.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was peaceful. And that peace was something I hadn’t felt in years.

If this is your first sober holiday, let it be simple. You don’t have to prove your recovery through performance. You just have to stay grounded, stay honest, and stay connected.

Facing grief without numbing it

For a long time, I thought grief and sobriety couldn’t coexist. I thought I had to either fall apart or fake being okay. But recovery taught me something powerful: I can hold both heartbreak and hope in the same hand.

When the grief hits (and it will) don’t fight it. Feel it. Grief is proof of love, and love doesn’t disappear just because someone’s gone.

Here are some ways I’ve honored my loved ones who’ve passed:

• Lighting a candle for them and thinking of a fond memory.
• Telling stories of them — it heals parts of your heart you may not realize needed healing.
• I’ve written letters to them and I allow myself to cry if I need to.

Healing happens in the release, not the resistance. Remember: feeling your feelings doesn’t mean you’re backsliding. It means you’re finally healing the right way, without the substances, without the escape.

Let the holidays be different

Sobriety has taught me that peace isn’t found in perfection. It’s found in permission: permission to say no, leave early, and not have to explain your healing to anyone who doesn’t understand it.

You don’t have to recreate the holidays of your past. You can build new ones that reflect who you are now — someone who’s learning to live, love, and stay.

Try this: Make one small tradition that’s just for you. Maybe it’s a morning walk before the chaos begins. Maybe it’s journaling three things you’re grateful for or skipping a party to protect your peace. Whatever it is, let it be enough.

For the one fighting for another day

For the person scrolling through social media feeling like everyone else is happy: please remember that no one posts the hard parts.

For the one working overtime instead of going to the party: be proud of yourself! That’s what recovery looks like in real life.

For the one who slipped: don’t let shame convince you it’s over. You can start again right now. You haven’t ruined your recovery, you’ve reminded yourself why you need it.

And for the one grieving and sober at the same time: please know, you are not alone. You are doing something incredibly brave — you’re feeling your pain instead of drowning in it.

Finding hope in the hard season

Healing is never seasonal. You don’t have to fake it this year, you just have to keep showing up for yourself, one day, one moment, one breath at a time.

Even when the holidays hurt, there’s hope hidden inside the hard. And for this season, that’s enough.