Ice skating in the park, sharing sugar cookies with friends, sipping hot cocoa, and last-minute shopping. Families gather on Christmas Eve to share a home-cooked meal, and the next morning, children race down the stairs at the earliest agreed-upon hour to tear into their stockings.
From crammed calendars and extravagant office gift swaps to annual reunions and nonstop festivities, our culture promotes unrealistic standards for the holiday season. This image of the “perfect” holiday is maintained by media outlets through selective advertisements, by corporations with their elaborate campaigns, by children’s books that romanticize the season, and most notably, by the societal pressure to succumb to these expectations.
The truth is, for a lot of college students, meeting these standards simply isn’t feasible. The holiday season is deeply transitional and individual, influenced by emotional and financial capacity.
Attending college in and of itself is a privilege, but the tension between the life we build while away and the one we leave behind is seldom acknowledged. Over the semester, we find independence, overcome obstacles, form new friendships, and discover who we are beyond our hometowns. Then, finals end, and the holiday break tugs us back into familiar hometown scenes, routines, and roles that don’t fit as comfortably as they once did.
Aside from that transition, many students carry unseen challenges with them into the holiday break. Many are managing anxiety or depression, which continues even after the semester ends. Others return to environments that feel uneasy or unsafe. Some must work overtime to support their families and care for siblings or sick relatives, while feeling pressured to deliver the perfect holiday. And some who live thousands of miles away don’t return home at all.
What if we let go of the Hallmark expectations and allowed the holidays to be softer, more honest, and more human?
Your holiday break does not need to fit the cookie-cutter mold to feel special. A slow morning cozied up with hot coffee, a whimsical walk in the snow, or a low-stakes get-together with those who feel like family to you. Try it and witness how small moments like these often end up meaning more than the extravagant ones.
At twenty-one, if you asked me what my favorite gift was growing up, I couldn’t tell you. I can, however, tell you all about the times I built a colossal snowman with my brother, made bracelets beneath a flashlight over a power outage, and flew face-first into a mountain of snow on the makeshift sled tied to the back of my dad’s pickup truck (not recommended per modern parenting safety codes).
Perhaps the season is not about the presents we receive, but staying present for ourselves and sharing our positive presence with others. Donating to a toy drive. Visiting a children’s hospital. Being someone’s stand-in granddaughter for the afternoon at a nursing home. Extending an invitation to an international student to share a meal. Listening without fixing. Small gestures like these can reshape someone’s entire winter season.
However the holidays end up looking for you this year is valid. Mine looks like giving myself permission to rest, practicing self-care in all of its forms, and making someone’s holiday a little more joyful in whatever ways I can.