Welcome back to We Interrupt Your Programming. It’s that time of year again—the season of family reunions, holiday drinks, and cozying up by a fire, all while pretending we’re better people than we probably are. Of course, the family gatherings might be limited to those who share our political leanings, the holiday drinks are caught up in the imagined "War on Christmas," and the fire may be less of a hearth and more of a metaphorical dumpster this year —but hey, the tinsel and lights make it all look festive, right?

In this episode, we’re untangling the holidays from multiple angles, stripping away the glitter of tradition to reveal what’s really happening beneath the surface.

First, we’ll examine the commercialism that drives the season—how we’ve turned expressions of love and generosity into a ritual of feeding the profits of multinational conglomerates. Then, we’ll explore the experience of those working through the holidays—those who wish they could celebrate but are too busy catering to those who can afford it.

From there, we’ll shift to the growing number of people opting out of Christmas entirely, as well as the genuinely good folks who use the season as a chance to ramp up volunteering and charitable efforts.

And, of course, we’ll take on the infamous “War on Christmas,” where the dominant majority casts itself as the victim while others bear the real harm of exclusion and hostility.

Finally, we’ll talk about loneliness—the quiet shadow of the season—and why a time draped in tinsel and lights can be one of the most dangerous for those who feel alone.

So, grab your eggnog or mulled wine—or maybe just some caffeine—as we navigate the messy, complicated reality of the holidays.

Before we really dive in, two things have been weighing on my mind that merit dialogue: a news story and the topic of a therapy session I recently had. No, not breaking confidentiality.

The news story was about the cost of hosting a holiday meal. According to the article, the groceries needed for a traditional spread now run upwards of $500. That’s nearly an entire week’s income for the average American household—depending on the exact menu. But for argument’s sake, let’s call it a full week’s pay.

Around the same time, I sat down with a client who casually mentioned that they hadn’t checked grocery prices in over a decade. If they want something, they simply grab it. I must admit, I understood their perspective. I’ve been there too, strolling through the store with the quiet privilege of tossing items into the cart without looking at the price tags.

Still, something about that conversation stuck with me. While I could relate to my client’s experience, I’ve also started to notice my own habits shifting—cutting back here and there, trimming away some of the more extravagant spending I might not have thought twice about before.

Take this Christmas, for example. My wife had dropped the appropriate number of hints about a new iPad—a hint trail that, in years past, would’ve been enough for me to add it to her already extensive Christmas list immediately. So, I sat down, priced it all out, and felt like shit. Ugh, will she love me less if I don’t spend $2,500 on an iPad? (And seriously, when did iPads start costing $2,500?)

In truth, no. She won’t. My wife and I started dating when I lived paycheck to paycheck. She wouldn’t mind skipping the iPad—especially since it’s just a slightly bigger version of the one she already has. But still, I fell into that familiar trap: the belief that I had to spend money I didn’t really have because that’s what we’re “supposed” to do this time of year, and I began to realize being a cynical and skeptical person wasn’t enough to protect me and despite working at very high levels in marketing for 15 years, I fell into the trap willingly.

Diving into Commercialism

For all its charm and twinkling lights, Christmas has become the most commercialized event of the year—a season that often feels more about shopping carts than silent nights. What started as a deeply spiritual holiday rooted in faith and family has transformed into a cultural phenomenon driven by marketing, consumerism, and a relentless push to buy. While gift-giving and festive celebrations have long been part of the tradition, today’s version of Christmas leans heavily into consumption, reshaping how we experience and define the holiday.

Let’s start with the gifts. The idea of giving presents goes back to the biblical Magi, who offered gold, frankincense, and myrrh with reverence and significance. Fast-forward to today, and we’ve swapped those symbolic offerings for gadgets, toys, and an avalanche of online deals. Giving gifts has shifted from a heartfelt gesture to an unspoken rule. For many, it’s not about whether to give but how much to spend—and often, how to outdo last year.

Retailers have been nudging this transformation along for over a century. In the 19th century, department stores turned Christmas into a shopping event, complete with festive displays designed to lure passersby inside. And then there’s Santa Claus—the Coca-Cola version we all know, with his rosy cheeks, jolly laugh, and unmistakable red suit. He’s not just a symbol of holiday cheer; he’s a marketing powerhouse, reminding us to stock up, splurge, and make it magical.

The frenzy begins earlier each year. Black Friday and Cyber Monday now mark the unofficial start of the holiday season—less about decking the halls and more about scoring the best deals. What was once a post-Thanksgiving tradition has expanded into a global phenomenon, with retailers employing every tactic imaginable to make you feel you must grab that discount before it’s too late. The season of giving, it seems, has also become the season of spending.

Corporations are experts in emotional manipulation, and during Christmas, they turn it up to eleven. They understand that the season brings out our softer, more generous side—the part of us that wants to help others, spread joy, and brighten the world a little. Through meticulously crafted advertising campaigns, they tap into these feelings, creating heartwarming stories that tug at our heartstrings. However, behind the polished façade of goodwill, these campaigns are often designed with a single objective: to convert our empathy into profit.

Consider the tear-jerking holiday commercials we see each year. A lonely elderly neighbor is surprised by a kind-hearted family with gifts. A child saves their pennies to buy something special for a parent. A company donates a small percentage of its profits to help those in need—after showing us a montage of struggling families or heart-wrenching scenes from disaster zones. These stories are crafted to stir our emotions, encouraging us to associate the brand with kindness, generosity, and the true spirit of Christmas. Yet, at their core, these ads focus less on solving problems and more on selling products.

It’s not just about emotional manipulation; it’s also about exploitation. Many companies highlight suffering as a backdrop to their feel-good messages, yet the resources they devote to these causes are often overshadowed by their advertising budgets. They depend on the spectacle of charity, showcasing just enough of their “good deeds” to gain our trust and dollars while systemic issues remain unaddressed. For instance, a retailer may donate a portion of holiday sales to hunger relief, but at the same time, their low wages or exploitative supply chains might contribute to the very problems they claim to combat.

This cycle profits from our good intentions. When we see an ad that promises to help someone in need, we feel good about making a purchase, believing we’re contributing to something larger. It often serves as a distraction from deeper injustices—and an effective one at that. By transforming human suffering into a marketing tool, corporations turn our desire to do good into just another source of revenue. It’s a sobering reminder to question not just the message but also the motives behind it.

Companies invest billions in commercials that tug at our heartstrings—children unwrapping the perfect gift, families gathered around cozy fires, partners exchanging sparkling jewelry. These ads don’t just sell products; they sell a vision of happiness and togetherness that feels just out of reach unless we buy in—literally. Over time, we’ve internalized the notion that the right gift or the perfect holiday display can make or break the season.

However, this type of commercial pressure comes at a cost. The average household spends hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars on gifts, decorations, and festive activities. For many, this results in a financial burden that lingers long after the last ornament is put away. While shopping can bring joy—especially when it involves finding something meaningful for a loved one—it’s easy to lose sight of the true reason for our celebrations.

Ironically, while commercialism has hijacked many aspects of Christmas, it hasn’t erased its heart entirely. Families still gather, meals are shared, and there’s something undeniably special about giving a gift that lights up someone’s face. But it’s worth asking: How much of the joy comes from genuine connection, and how much is tied to what we’ve been told Christmas should look like?

The environmental toll is another piece of the puzzle. Think about all the wrapping paper, packaging, and plastic decorations that accumulate during the holidays—not to mention the energy it takes to produce, ship, and sell everything we buy. It’s a lot. And it reminds us that the way we celebrate doesn’t just affect our wallets; it impacts the planet, too.

Nevertheless, there is hope. An increasing number of people are reconsidering their approach to the season. Movements like “Buy Nothing Christmas” and trends toward homemade gifts and charitable giving illustrate a desire to reclaim the holiday from its commercial excesses. These efforts remind us that the most meaningful aspects of Christmas—connection, gratitude, generosity—do not come with a price tag.

Perhaps the answer isn’t to avoid gift-giving or overlook the joy of a well-lit tree, but to seek balance. We can establish limits, prioritize experiences over material things, and take time to reflect on what truly matters. This might mean spending less time in stores (or online) and more time with the people who make the season special. Alternatively, it could involve choosing gifts that support a cause, have a personal touch, or create lasting memories instead of clutter.

In the end, Christmas is what we make it. Commercialism may dominate the season, but it doesn’t have to define it. We can still enjoy the glitter and sparkle while creating space for what feels real and meaningful. Whether it’s the quiet moments of reflection, the laughter of loved ones, or the act of giving—not out of obligation, but out of love—Christmas can be a time to reconnect with what truly matters. It’s simply a matter of deciding what kind of holiday we want to celebrate.

I Am No Charles Dickens

Last night, I watched The Man Who Invented Christmas for the first time, a film that offers a poignant glimpse into the creative journey behind Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. While I’ve always admired the story for its enduring themes of compassion and redemption, the movie provided a richer perspective on Dickens—not just as a writer, but as a social reformer. It was a wake-up call, reminding me of the transformative power of storytelling and the moral obligation that comes with privilege: to confront and address the struggles of others.

The film portrays Dickens as a man shaped by his own encounters with hardship. As a child, he experienced the sting of poverty when his family’s financial troubles landed them in debtor's prison, leaving him to work in a shoe-blacking factory under grueling conditions. These formative experiences left an indelible mark, fueling his determination to give voice to those who were marginalized—the hardworking, the suffering, and the unseen.

Watching the film, I was struck by how A Christmas Carol transcends being a story of Scrooge’s personal redemption. It’s a direct appeal to its audience—especially the affluent—to look beyond their comfortable realities and see the humanity in those less fortunate. Dickens didn’t merely craft a tale; he issued a challenge. Through characters like Tiny Tim, whose fragile health symbolized the plight of countless impoverished children, and the Cratchit family, who embodied resilience despite grinding poverty, Dickens forced readers to confront uncomfortable truths. These characters weren’t abstract; they were vivid, relatable, and undeniable in their presence.

Yet A Christmas Carol was only one chapter in Dickens’ lifelong mission to use storytelling as a force for social change. In Oliver Twist, he laid bare the cruelty of workhouses and the exploitation of child labor, countering the narrative that poverty was a moral failing. Hard Times decried the dehumanization wrought by industrialization, and Bleak House exposed systemic injustices within the legal system that disproportionately harmed the poor. Dickens wielded his pen not just to entertain but to enlighten, bridging the chasm between the privileged and the destitute.

What made Dickens’ work so impactful was his ability to humanize societal issues. He didn’t reduce poverty to statistics or abstraction; he made it personal. His characters were fully realized individuals, complete with dreams, flaws, and humanity that mirrored the lives of his readers. By doing so, Dickens didn’t lecture his audience; he invited them into the world of the downtrodden, making their struggles impossible to ignore.

Equally significant was Dickens’ use of serialized publishing, a medium that democratized storytelling. While the poorest couldn’t afford his works, serialized novels were accessible to the burgeoning middle class and the elite, sparking widespread dialogue about systemic inequality. Dickens understood that storytelling could ripple outward, fostering empathy and driving reform.

Watching The Man Who Invented Christmas, I couldn’t help but see Dickens as a social warrior, wielding narrative as both a mirror and a call to action. His legacy compels us to ask difficult questions: Are we using our platforms, no matter how small, to shine a light on injustice? Are we willing to share the stories that challenge comfort but build compassion?

Dickens’ life is a testament to the belief that art can reshape society, not just reflect it. His work reminds us that empathy, when ignited, can bridge divides and inspire change. The film was more than a nostalgic journey for me—it was a reminder that the responsibility Dickens shouldered is one we still share. His life challenges us to listen, to amplify, and to act, knowing that the first step toward justice is recognizing the humanity in others. In Dickens’ world—and ours—storytelling is more than an act of creation. It’s an act of courage.

The Holidays: A Season of Strain for Service Workers

The holidays are wrapped in layers of joy and tradition—a season that promises connection and celebration. Cheerful carols loop endlessly in stores, string lights cast a warm glow over city streets, and commercials nudge you to embrace the spirit of giving. But have you ever paused to consider the people ensuring the wheels of this festive machine keep turning? For service workers, the holidays can be the hardest time of year. Beneath the glittering surface lies a story of exhaustion, emotional strain, and a quiet yearning to be seen.

Smiling Through the Stress: The Burden of Emotional Labor
If you’ve ever encountered a smiling cashier or an upbeat server during the holiday rush, you’ve witnessed emotional labor—the expectation that workers present cheer and patience no matter the circumstance. During the holidays, that burden grows heavier. Customers arrive with heightened expectations, often carrying the weight of their own holiday stress—unspoken family tensions, gift-buying pressures, or financial strain. And too often, this spills over as frustration or impatience, absorbed silently by the people serving them.

Imagine being a cashier on Christmas Eve, weathering sharp complaints over sold-out items. Or a restaurant server, juggling demanding tables, smiling through every snapped order. It’s not just about maintaining composure; it’s about suppressing your own needs and feelings to keep others comfortable. Over time, this quiet suppression builds into deep exhaustion—a sense of being unseen, even as you stand at the center of the festive chaos.

The Relentless Grind: Physical and Financial Pressures
Holiday cheer doesn’t come easily—it’s built on the relentless labor of countless workers. Stores extend their hours, restaurants fill with boisterous holiday parties, and delivery routes become grueling marathons. For service workers, this means longer shifts, fewer breaks, and endless hustle—often without significant financial reward. Many sacrifice their own holiday traditions to keep the system running, trading moments with loved ones for crowded aisles and endless to-do lists.

If you rely on tips, the season becomes a gamble. While some customers embrace generosity, others hold back, assuming the holiday rush translates to financial abundance for the workers serving them. This uncertainty compounds an already precarious financial situation, leaving many workers in a cruel paradox: more work, less rest, and barely enough to make ends meet.

A Culture of Entitlement
One of the most draining aspects of the holiday season is the entitlement that often accompanies it. The phrase “It’s the holidays” becomes both a demand and an excuse—justifying impatience, unrealistic expectations, or even outright rudeness. A missed reservation, a delayed package, or an out-of-stock item can spark outsized reactions, leaving service workers to manage the fallout.

Sometimes, this entitlement is quieter—manifesting as indifference. The cashier ringing up hundreds of purchases, the delivery driver hauling packages in freezing rain, the barista making their fiftieth peppermint latte of the morning—too often, they’re treated as background characters in someone else’s holiday story. Their labor is essential, but their humanity is overlooked.

The Hidden Costs to Mental Health
The cumulative weight of emotional labor, physical exhaustion, financial strain, and lack of recognition takes a profound toll on mental health. Burnout becomes a constant companion, made worse by the knowledge that the sacrifices—long hours, missed family moments—often go unnoticed. For some, the contrast between the idealized holidays portrayed in the media and their lived experience deepens feelings of isolation.

There’s a unique loneliness in serving others during a season meant to be about togetherness. While families gather around tables or unwrap gifts by the fire, service workers are miles away, ensuring the celebration continues for everyone else. This disconnection from the season’s core promise—connection—makes the weight even harder to bear.

Toward a More Empathetic Holiday Season
If the holidays are about kindness and giving, how often do you extend those values to the people working hardest to sustain your celebrations? What if you paused to thank the cashier or tipped your server a little extra? These small gestures ripple outward, offering service workers the humanity they so often provide but rarely receive.

Employers also have a role. A simple meal during a long shift, fair wages, or acknowledgment of sacrifices made can ease the burden. The gesture doesn’t need to be grand—it just needs to show recognition.

The holidays remind us of what matters most: connection, generosity, and gratitude. By extending these values to the workers who make the season possible, you create a more inclusive holiday story—one where everyone, not just servers or helpers, is recognized as deserving of joy, rest, and humanity. Beneath the glitter and glow lies an opportunity to honor the heart of the season. Will you take it?

The “War on Christmas”: A Manufactured Conflict Meant to Divide
Every December, like clockwork, a familiar narrative resurfaces in certain media outlets and social circles: the so-called “War on Christmas.” It’s presented as a cultural battleground where traditionalists must defend the sanctity of the holiday from secular forces intent on erasing its significance. Phrases like “Happy Holidays” are painted as tools of oppression, and a Starbucks coffee cup design can inexplicably ignite a national controversy. But beneath the surface of this perennial outrage lies a carefully constructed sham—a divisive tactic designed to stoke animosity and distract from more pressing societal issues.

Origins of the “War on Christmas”
The idea of a “War on Christmas” is not new. In the mid-20th century, American society began to diversify its public celebrations, reflecting an increasingly pluralistic population. Efforts to include people of various faiths, or none at all, in holiday festivities were often met with resistance. However, it wasn’t until the early 2000s that the term “War on Christmas” gained significant traction, popularized by pundits like Bill O’Reilly on Fox News.

The narrative asserts that secularism, political correctness, and multiculturalism are conspiring to marginalize Christmas, relegating it to a watered-down, generic “holiday season.” This supposed cultural shift is often framed as part of a broader attack on Christianity, tapping into fears among some Christians that their faith is under siege in an increasingly diverse and secular world.

But this claim doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. Christmas remains the most celebrated holiday in the United States, with over 90% of Americans observing it in some form, according to Pew Research Center. Retailers still center their marketing around Christmas, municipalities decorate their public spaces with Christmas-themed displays, and carols dominate the airwaves from November onward. Far from being marginalized, Christmas is ubiquitous.

The Starbucks Cup Controversy: Manufactured Outrage in Action
One of the most absurd yet illustrative examples of the “War on Christmas” narrative occurred in 2015, when Starbucks released a minimalist red holiday cup. The design—plain red with no text or illustrations—was intended to be a neutral canvas, allowing customers to personalize their cups. Starbucks described it as a move toward simplicity and inclusivity, reflecting the diverse ways people celebrate the holiday season.

This benign design choice quickly spiraled into controversy. Some conservative commentators accused Starbucks of “removing Christmas” from their cups, interpreting the lack of overtly Christian imagery (like snowflakes or reindeer, ironically not Christian symbols) as an attack on the holiday. Social media erupted with claims that Starbucks was contributing to the erasure of Christmas, with some even calling for a boycott of the coffee chain.

The controversy highlighted the absurdity of the “War on Christmas” narrative. Starbucks had not banned Christmas-themed items; in fact, their stores continued to sell Christmas blends, advent calendars, and other holiday merchandise. The outrage was manufactured, with certain media figures and influencers using the cups as a symbol of a broader cultural grievance. The episode was less about cups and more about fostering division, creating an artificial sense of persecution among Christians to fuel a culture war.

Manufactured Outrage and Its Real Purpose
If Christmas is so deeply ingrained in American culture, why does the “War on Christmas” narrative persist? The answer lies in its utility as a political and cultural weapon.

At its core, the “War on Christmas” is a distraction. It shifts attention away from systemic issues—economic inequality, healthcare, climate change—and toward a fabricated culture war. By painting a picture of Christians as victims, it galvanizes certain voting blocs, encouraging them to see themselves as defenders of tradition against an imagined enemy.

This narrative also reinforces an “us versus them” mentality. It creates a binary where saying “Merry Christmas” is framed as a moral good, and saying “Happy Holidays” becomes a symbol of moral decay or hostility toward Christianity. In reality, phrases like “Happy Holidays” are simply an acknowledgment of the many celebrations that occur during December, including Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and New Year’s. But in the framework of the “War on Christmas,” inclusivity is twisted into an attack.

The Real Harm of the “War on Christmas” Narrative
The harm of this manufactured controversy extends far beyond petty arguments over holiday greetings. It fosters division and animosity, particularly toward minority groups. Non-Christians, atheists, and people of different cultural backgrounds often find themselves unfairly cast as antagonists in this imaginary war. This can lead to real-world consequences, including increased polarization and even acts of harassment or discrimination.

Moreover, the “War on Christmas” distracts from the actual meaning and values of the holiday. Christmas, at its heart, is a celebration of love, generosity, and togetherness. By turning it into a political weapon, its deeper significance is overshadowed by petty squabbles and performative outrage.

A Broader Pattern of Manufactured Culture Wars
The “War on Christmas” is not an isolated phenomenon; it’s part of a broader pattern of manufactured culture wars that exploit fear and division. Similar tactics can be seen in debates over critical race theory, LGBTQ+ rights, and immigration. In each case, complex societal changes are reduced to simplistic narratives of good versus evil, designed to provoke outrage and solidify ideological divides.

These culture wars serve a strategic purpose: they keep people focused on emotional, surface-level issues while those in power avoid accountability for systemic problems. By framing Christmas as a battleground, those pushing this narrative redirect attention away from more substantive discussions about inequality, climate policy, or healthcare reform.

Recognizing and Rejecting the Sham
To see through the “War on Christmas” narrative, it’s essential to approach it with skepticism and critical thinking. First, consider who benefits from this controversy. Is it the average person who just wants to enjoy the holiday season? Or is it media outlets, political figures, and corporations that profit from the polarization it creates?

Next, remember that inclusivity is not a threat to tradition. Saying “Happy Holidays” doesn’t erase Christmas; it simply acknowledges that not everyone celebrates the same way. In fact, inclusivity can enrich the holiday season, allowing people from different backgrounds to share and learn from one another’s traditions.

Finally, focus on what truly matters during the holidays. Instead of being drawn into divisive rhetoric, emphasize the values of kindness, generosity, and connection that lie at the heart of the season. Rejecting the “War on Christmas” doesn’t mean abandoning Christmas; it means refusing to let it be used as a tool for division.

Reclaiming the Spirit of the Season
The beauty of Christmas—and the broader holiday season—is its ability to bring people together. Whether you celebrate it as a religious occasion, a cultural tradition, or simply a time to connect with loved ones, the essence of the holiday transcends political and cultural divides. By rejecting the false narrative of a “War on Christmas,” we can reclaim the season’s true spirit.

Imagine a holiday season where conversations about inclusion aren’t framed as battles but as opportunities for understanding. Imagine a December where the focus isn’t on outrage over Starbucks cups but on acts of kindness and community. This vision is entirely within reach—if we’re willing to let go of the manufactured conflicts that distract us from what really matters.

The “War on Christmas” is, and always has been, a sham. It’s a cynical ploy designed to exploit fear and division for political and financial gain. By recognizing it for what it is, we can move beyond the petty squabbles it incites and embrace the shared humanity that the holiday season represents. After all, the best way to honor Christmas isn’t by fighting imaginary battles—it’s by living its values.

Loneliness is The Silent Epidemic: And it’s amplified during the holidays.

Loneliness is more than just a feeling—it is a deeply harmful condition with profound effects on mental and physical health. While fleeting moments of solitude are a natural part of the human experience, chronic loneliness takes a toll that can feel insurmountable. Its impact is particularly acute during the holiday season, a time culturally saturated with images of togetherness, joy, and celebration. For those who feel isolated, these messages become painful reminders of what they lack, deepening the emotional chasm they face.

There Are Real Health Risks In Loneliness

Research has repeatedly underscored the physical dangers of loneliness. It is linked to increased risks of cardiovascular disease, weakened immune function, and even premature death. Studies have equated the health risks of chronic loneliness to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. When people feel socially disconnected, their bodies often respond as though under chronic stress, releasing higher levels of cortisol, the stress hormone. This prolonged state of tension affects nearly every organ system, from the heart to the brain, making loneliness a public health issue, not merely an emotional concern.

On a psychological level, loneliness can be a breeding ground for anxiety and depression. It reinforces negative thought patterns, convincing individuals that they are unworthy of connection or incapable of finding it. This self-perpetuating cycle becomes increasingly difficult to break, especially as people isolate further to protect themselves from perceived rejection. Over time, loneliness reshapes the brain, heightening sensitivity to social threats and reducing one’s capacity to engage meaningfully with others.

We need to understand Why the Holidays Hurt More
The holidays, ideally a time of joy, gratitude, and togetherness, have a way of intensifying loneliness. Cultural narratives portray this season as a magical time when families unite, friendships deepen, and love abounds. For those who lack these connections, the holidays serve as an unrelenting spotlight on their isolation. The gap between societal expectations and personal reality becomes impossible to ignore.

Several factors contribute to this heightened pain. First, the holidays disrupt routine. For many people, the rhythms of work or school provide a structure that mitigates loneliness, offering opportunities for social interaction and purpose. When these routines pause, feelings of emptiness can swell. Additionally, the emphasis on family during the holidays can reopen old wounds, especially for those who have experienced estrangement, loss, or trauma. Even well-meaning traditions can sting—receiving fewer holiday cards, seeing others celebrate on social media, or being unable to attend events due to financial constraints can all amplify feelings of exclusion.

The commercialization of the holidays adds another layer of difficulty. Advertisements depict idealized images of gatherings around lavish feasts, gift exchanges, and laughter by the fire. For someone struggling with loneliness, these images feel not aspirational but accusatory, a cruel reminder of what they don’t have. Social media, too, plays a significant role, as curated posts of celebrations can make others’ lives appear effortlessly joyful, even if the reality is more nuanced.

Our Modern Lives Are Lonely

While loneliness has always existed, its prevalence in modern society is concerning. Urbanization, the rise of remote work, and the decline of community institutions like churches and civic organizations have reduced opportunities for organic social connections. Paradoxically, technology, which promises to keep us more connected than ever, often deepens isolation. Online interactions lack the depth and nuance of face-to-face encounters, leaving people feeling unseen and unheard. During the holidays, this disconnect becomes even more poignant.

Another contributing factor is the stigma surrounding loneliness. Admitting to feeling lonely can carry a sense of shame, as though it reflects a personal failing rather than a societal issue. This silence around loneliness compounds the problem, as those suffering may not seek help or express their need for connection.

What do we do to break the cycle?

Acknowledging loneliness as a legitimate issue is the first step toward addressing it. On an individual level, small acts of connection can have a significant impact. Reaching out to a neighbor, volunteering, or even attending a community event can offer a sense of belonging. For those in the throes of loneliness, however, such steps can feel insurmountable. In these cases, therapy or support groups can provide a safe space to rebuild social confidence and develop healthier patterns of thinking.

For society at large, it is critical to foster environments that encourage connection. Workplaces can play a role by hosting inclusive events, schools can prioritize emotional learning, and communities can invest in public spaces that facilitate gathering. During the holidays, organizations and individuals alike can make an extra effort to include those who might otherwise be overlooked, such as hosting open-invitation events or checking in on friends who live alone.

We Must Move Towards Empathy
Ultimately, addressing loneliness requires a cultural shift toward greater empathy. Instead of assuming that everyone shares the same holiday joy, we must recognize that this season can be fraught with pain for many. Simple gestures—a phone call, a heartfelt note, or an invitation to join a celebration—can go a long way in alleviating someone’s isolation. Empathy also involves challenging the narratives that equate worthiness with having a picture-perfect holiday, allowing people to find their own meaning in the season.

Loneliness is a condition that harms not only the individual but society as a whole, eroding our collective well-being. The holidays, with their heightened emphasis on connection and joy, can make this pain even more acute. By acknowledging the profound effects of loneliness and taking steps to address it, we can begin to rewrite the story of the season—not as one of unattainable ideals, but as a time of genuine care and connection. In doing so, we honor not just the spirit of the holidays but the shared humanity that binds us all.