Lights, carols, and shadows: managing SMI at holiday time
by Elsie Ramsey
On a recent trip to Stockholm, I waited for my evening flight at a very turned-out JFK: Christmas carols piped out from speakers, and installations of domestic scenes transformed the terminal. “There’s no place like home for the holidays,” Perry Como sang. The tranquility suited my taste, but as someone with a loved one whose behavior can spin out of control, I felt some other things, too. Anyone close to someone with a mood disorder knows this season of magnified connection also magnifies pain.
My loved one does not have the skills to regulate their emotions. They have a bipolar type 1 diagnosis, and when triggered, their rage is white-hot and terrifying. At times when symptoms of psychosis appear, things are said that are so cutting that they’re impossible to forget.
No matter how much peace I make with it, the holidays throw the raw edges of loss into relief. Relentless messaging around domestic joy reopens negotiations I’ve made with myself about my fractured status with this person. Is there a way to work around it this year so we can gather in peace? How do we prepare?
The tragedy and hurt from past scenes remain no matter what. After knock-down dragouts, I’ve always felt pressured to move on without discussing what’s been said and done. Finally, I set some boundaries to protect myself. Two baseline practices help me maintain some control while near an often out-of-control situation.
I abide by these principles and share them with others in similar situations because, during the holidays, the most loving thing we can do is make one another feel safe.
Level-set: manage your expectations
Of course, I always want a holiday free from fear and conflict, but accepting this may not be possible has helped me find peace. I focus on the bottom line: creating a space where safety and respect are honored. Anything beyond that is a gift.
Letting go of perfection is the first step. The media shamelessly idealizes the holidays. This vision is neither accurate nor achievable, even in the best circumstances. Striving for it feels especially sadistic when serious mental illness is part of your close network. So, I define success given this situation.
My goals are modest — so modest they may not sound like goals to the uninitiated. For example, one year, I hoped to share a single walk with my loved one without escalation. If they’ve been dysregulated in the weeks leading up to Christmas, I refuse to be coerced or guilt-tripped into joining a gathering where I’d feel anxious and emotionally unsafe. Having realistic expectations profoundly eases the weight of disappointment.
It’s also helpful to remind yourself that the holiday season is a series of moments, not one singular event. If one gathering doesn’t go as planned, it doesn’t mean the entire season is ruined. Small, meaningful interactions can carry as much weight as more significant celebrations. Focus on those moments of connection, however fleeting they may be, and hold onto them as victories.
Communicate clearly
For years, I operated under the assumption that my loved one must be included in every gathering to avoid hurt feelings. The problem? We never openly discuss what could go wrong. This lack of communication leads to misunderstandings and explosive encounters every year.
Having these conversations isn’t easy, but it is 100% necessary. Even if no one asks or seems to care, I share what I’m comfortable with during a holiday visit. I’m always prepared to step away from the conversation or the plan if I meet with pushback or refusal to meet the conditions.
While transparency creates momentary discomfort, it builds long-term trust and gives us at least a shot at finding a way to be together without the fear of friction in the future.
In other words, no one should feel pressured into a visit — not them or you. In general, compromise is beautiful, but not when sacrificing one’s well-being. Our worst conflicts have begun with me saying yes when I meant no. No matter how out of touch with reality, my loved one senses my unease or fear during these forced visits. That tension triggers anger, and things get said that permanently damage our relationship.
Honoring autonomy — mine and theirs — is a loving gift we can give each other. It’s a powerful expression of respect and care, which, last I heard, is the essence of the holidays.
Give thanks
If you’re in a situation like mine, getting through this time of year emotionally intact requires resilience and tenderness toward yourself. Acknowledge the grief, complexity, and exhaustion that may arise. Lean on your support system, whether it’s friends, therapy, or a trusted community.
The holidays do not resemble the idyllic scenes on greeting cards. But they can still hold moments of connection, fleeting as they may be, and glimmers of joy — if we approach them with open hearts and tempered expectations. It’s a delicate dance of love and boundaries, and in its quiet, complicated way, it’s beautiful too.
