Why Are We Dressing Up for Christmas at Our Tía’s When All We Want Is Our Comfort Hoodie?

Holiday burnout, mental health, and choosing comfort during the holidays

Also… is it just me, or does this year feel a lot less festive?

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“You will die in seven days.”

Just kidding.

It’s just that quote we all remember from The Ring.

But it is a reminder that Christmas is in seven days.

Are y’all ready?

Technically? I am.

Emotionally? I think I am — until the day actually comes and suddenly I’m hit with the Samara blues, trying to drag me into that damn well with her.

And maybe that’s where the tradition of dressing up for the holidays started. Because sometimes, dressing your best can make you feel your best.

Sometimes.

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Because every year — without fail — we stress about what we’re going to wear for Christmas.

Not for a fancy dinner.

Not for a night out.

But to sit on our tía’s couch.

Or let’s be honest — a raggedy chair outside by a bonfire, because it is bonfire season and that alone lowers my stress levels like a stripper sliding down a pole. (How do they do that?)

Like… why am I putting on a real bra and a full face of makeup just to eat tamales, dodge uncomfortable questions, and pretend I’m not counting down the minutes until I can leave?

When all I actually want is my comfort hoodie.

You know the one.

The one that feels like an apapacho.

(Some of you already have it 😉)

The one that doesn’t ask how my job is going.

Or if I’m dating anyone.

Or why I look tired.

Or how I lost so much weight — because if you really want that answer, that’s a long conversation.

And honestly? I think that says a lot about how this year feels.

Maybe it’s holiday burnout — the kind that creeps in when you’re carrying more than anyone can see.

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Is it just me, or does Christmas feel… less festive this year?

I don’t know if it’s burnout.

Or grief.

Or healing.

Or depression.

Or all of the above.

But the lights feel a little dimmer this year.

I hate Christmas music a little more (yes, I’m one of those).

And instead of excitement, there’s this quiet urge to wrap myself in a blanket and opt out of the whole thing.

No but seriously — let me paint the picture.

Comfort hoodie, obviously.

Comfort blanket.

Comfort pup (absolutely non-negotiable).

A warm cup of something just to hold in my hands, because for some reason that alone makes things feel better.

Fire going. Movies on. Nervous system finally unclenched.

And no — it’s not that I don’t love my family.

I do. I really do.

I love our traditions and wish we practiced them more.

It’s just that showing up feels heavier when you’re healing quietly.

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The pressure to “look good” during the holidays when you’re just trying to survive

There’s something very specific about Latina holidays.

They’re loud, loving, beautiful — and full of unspoken expectations.

You show up put together.

You don’t air out your feelings.

You smile. You hug. You eat.

You explain your life choices.

Somewhere along the way, dressing up became part of the performance.

But when you’re navigating anxiety, depression, trauma, health issues — or just deep emotional exhaustion — getting dressed isn’t about impressing anyone.

It’s about feeling safe in your body.

That’s where comfort comes in.

Not as laziness.

Not as “giving up.”

But as regulation.

I once read a quote — I wish I could remember where — that said laziness isn’t a flaw. It’s what happens when needs aren’t being met. It’s the body carrying weight no one else can see.

Like trying to swim with weights tied to your ankles… except you don’t even know they’re there.

Our families might see us as fodongas or fodongos.

They don’t see the weights.

They don’t feel what the season triggered.

They don’t know what it costs us just to show up.

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Why comfort hoodies feel like emotional support clothing

Comfort has always been part of how we survive — especially in communities that were taught to push through instead of rest. A comfort hoodie isn’t just something you throw on.

It’s a boundary.

It’s a deep breath.

It’s your nervous system saying, please be gentle with me today.

That’s why mental health hoodies and emotional-healing clothing resonate so deeply — especially during the holidays. They’re not about trends. They’re about survival.

Because mental health seems easy to talk about… until it’s yours.

And when words feel impossible, you reach for something you can hold. Sometimes that’s therapy. Sometimes it’s community.

Sometimes it’s a hoodie.

And for a lot of us — especially within Latin wellness spaces — healing doesn’t look aesthetic or loud.

It looks like showing up anyway.

It looks like choosing softness where you can.

It looks like wearing something that understands you, even when the room doesn’t.

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Maybe this is what self-love looks like this year

Maybe self-love this Christmas isn’t sparkles or perfect photos.

Maybe it’s:

• Sitting on the couch without performing

• Wearing the hoodie instead of the outfit

• Letting yourself feel neutral instead of festive

• Choosing comfort over expectation

Maybe that’s enough.

For the ones healing quietly.

For the ones who still show up, even when it’s hard.

Mental health is not a trend.

It’s survival.

Wear what understands you. Don’t let the Samara seasonal or stress blues drag you down the well and trick you into thinking you’re dying. You got this. And have a sip of something warm for me.

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💭 Tell me — what’s your holiday fit this year?

Comfort? Glam? A mix of both?

I love them all.