For many people, the holidays arrive wrapped in expectation. They promise warmth, connection, renewal, and belonging. We are told this is the season when family comes together, when old wounds soften, when joy returns.
And yet, for many, the holidays do not heal. They hurt.
You may feel lonelier in a crowded room, more aware of what’s missing, or quietly disappointed that once again the season has not delivered what you hoped it would. If this is your experience, there is nothing wrong with you. From a depth-psychological perspective, it may be a meaningful response to something stirring beneath the surface.
The holidays have a unique way of activating what Jungian psychology calls complexes—emotionally charged inner patterns shaped by early relationships, especially within the family. Memories of how love was offered, withheld, conditional, or overwhelming often resurface during this time of year.
We don’t only gather with family during the holidays; we encounter our inner family:
Even in families that are largely functional, the contrast between the image of how things should feel and the reality of how they do feel can awaken disappointment, sadness, or a quiet ache that’s hard to name.
In contemporary culture, disappointment is often treated as something to quickly overcome—reframed, minimized, or bypassed. But psychologically, disappointment is not a failure. It is a moment when an expectation, fantasy, or idealized image of life breaks open.
In Jungian terms, disappointment often marks the withdrawal of projection. Something we hoped another person, a family gathering, or a season itself would provide can no longer carry that burden. This loss can feel painful, even disorienting—but it also opens a doorway.
Disappointment asks quiet but essential questions:
When listened to rather than dismissed, disappointment often reveals not only grief, but longing—and longing points toward what truly matters.
For many, the holidays sharpen the awareness of loss: a loved one who is gone, a relationship that changed, a sense of time passing that cannot be undone. Grief does not follow a seasonal schedule, but ritual and memory often invite it forward.
Depth-oriented therapy understands grief not as something to “get over,” but as something that reshapes us. When grief is allowed space, it deepens emotional honesty and reconnects us to our capacity for love. Grief does not cancel hope; it refines it, stripping away illusion while preserving what is essential.
When we stop insisting that the holidays be different than they are, something subtle can shift. The energy once invested in maintaining appearances or unmet expectations becomes available for listening inwardly.
This is where depth begins—not with answers, but with presence.
Rather than asking, How do I make this season better? the psyche often asks, What is this season asking of me now?
From a Jungian perspective, hope is not forced optimism or manufactured cheer. Genuine hope emerges when we relate honestly to our experience rather than turning away from it.
Hope may take quieter forms:
Hope often arrives not as a solution, but as a capacity—the ability to remain present with what is real and still feel connected to life.
Jungian therapy offers a place to bring the full complexity of the season without needing to simplify or sanitize it. Rather than urging positivity, it invites curiosity, emotional honesty, and depth.
In this work, disappointment becomes something to explore rather than suppress. Grief is given language and dignity. Long-standing inner figures shaped by family history are gently brought into awareness. Over time, what once felt overwhelming can begin to feel meaningful.
Hope emerges not because circumstances suddenly change, but because your relationship to them does.
If the holidays feel heavy this year, you are not alone—and you do not have to carry it alone. Depth psychotherapy offers a space to listen to what is stirring beneath the surface and to discover a form of hope that is grounded, resilient, and real.
If you’re curious about working together during this season, I invite you to reach out. Sometimes the most meaningful gift we can offer ourselves is the space to be fully human.