Have you ever found yourself spending money during the holidays on something you didn’t particularly want to buy, for a reason you couldn’t quite explain?
Perhaps it was another gift for a grandchild who already has more than enough. Or an elaborate family dinner you love hosting but secretly dread preparing. Maybe it was the annual gift exchange with friends that everyone continues, although no one seems particularly enthusiastic about it anymore.
We do these things for good reasons. We love our families, treasure traditions, and want people to feel remembered and appreciated.
But sometimes, beneath those good intentions, something else is at work. We don’t want to disappoint anyone or appear less generous than we once were. And perhaps, without realizing it, we’ve begun measuring our value to others by what we provide.
In her recent article, Teri Parker offered thoughtful, practical guidance for approaching holiday spending with greater intention. But even when we know how to create a budget, our emotions, relationships, and expectations can complicate matters. Knowing what we should do and understanding why we struggle to do it are two different things.
And the holidays have a remarkable way of bringing those struggles to the surface.
When good values collide
I’ve come to believe that some of our most difficult financial decisions aren’t the result of poor judgment. They arise when things we genuinely value begin competing with one another.
We value generosity, but also financial security. We want to create wonderful family memories while being responsible stewards of our resources. We treasure traditions, yet sometimes those traditions require more time, energy, and money than we’re comfortable giving.
None of these values is wrong. The difficulty comes when honoring one seems to require compromising another.
Consider a grandmother who takes enormous pleasure in giving her grandchildren special Christmas gifts. As the family grows, so does the expense. She begins worrying about dipping into savings, yet scaling back feels uncomfortable. What if the grandchildren are disappointed? What if her children interpret the change as diminished affection?
Her struggle isn’t simply about money. It’s about reconciling generosity with protecting her financial future. Unless she recognizes that tension, even a carefully constructed budget may be difficult to follow.
The identity we’ve built around giving
There’s another dimension to holiday spending that I find particularly interesting: the connection between what we do and who we believe ourselves to be.
Perhaps you’ve always hosted Christmas dinner. You plan the menu, decorate, purchase gifts, and make everyone feel welcome. Over time, this becomes part of your identity. You’re the person who brings everyone together.
But circumstances change. Your energy isn’t what it once was. The family has grown, expenses have increased, or you’d simply like to enjoy the holiday without carrying so much responsibility. Yet suggesting a change feels difficult. If you’re no longer creating that wonderful Christmas experience, what does that mean about your role in the family? I think many of us, particularly women, can identify with this. We become so attached to the roles we’ve created that we forget we have permission to redefine them.
Being the heart of a family doesn’t mean financing, organizing, and delivering every family experience. Perhaps the greater gift is inviting others to help create the celebration rather than continuing to shoulder the responsibility alone.
The price of avoiding disappointment
Sometimes we spend money not because we particularly want something, but because we want to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.
We hesitate to tell our adult children we’re changing gift-giving traditions or suggest everyone contribute to the holiday meal. We continue exchanging gifts with friends because no one wants to be the first to ask, “Could we do something different this year?” So we quietly absorb the expense, telling ourselves it’s easier to continue. But is it?
When we repeatedly say yes to things we’d rather decline, the cost isn’t always financial. Sometimes it’s resentment, fatigue, or the feeling that our own needs have become less important than everyone else’s.
Here’s a question worth considering: Are we protecting someone else’s feelings, or protecting ourselves from the discomfort of possibly disappointing them?
There’s a difference. An honest, loving conversation may initially feel uncomfortable, but it can open the door to traditions everyone enjoys more. We may even discover others have been hoping for the same change.
When fairness gets complicated
Holiday giving becomes especially challenging when we try to be fair to everyone.
Do we spend equally on each child or grandchild? What happens when one adult child is financially comfortable while another is struggling? Do we help the one who needs it, even if that creates hurt feelings?
We often equate fairness with equality, but they’re not necessarily the same. Sometimes fairness means treating everyone alike. Other times, it means recognizing different circumstances and needs.
The difficulty arises when we make financial decisions primarily to manage others’ reactions. We may give more than intended or stretch our resources to avoid someone feeling slighted. Of course, we want those we love to feel valued. But fairness isn’t always measured in dollars, and neither is affection.
Giving ourselves permission to choose
So where does this leave us as another holiday season approaches? Before deciding what to spend, perhaps we should consider what’s driving our decisions.
What am I trying to preserve through my holiday spending? A meaningful tradition, a treasured relationship, an image of myself, or someone’s approval?
Am I choosing this because it brings me joy, or because I feel obligated to continue?
And if I were less concerned about disappointing others, what might I do differently?
These questions aren’t always comfortable. They ask us to look beyond purchases and examine the beliefs and expectations influencing our choices.
We can love our families deeply without meeting every expectation. We can be generous without compromising our financial well-being. And we can honor cherished traditions while allowing them to evolve.
I’ve come to believe the holidays offer an opportunity to practice something we don’t always find easy: making thoughtful choices that reflect our values while allowing others to have their own feelings about those choices. That’s not selfishness. It’s recognizing that our needs and well-being matter, too.
So perhaps this year, rather than asking only how much we can afford to spend, we might ask ourselves something different:
“What am I saying yes to this holiday season, and what am I willing to let go of so that I can enjoy what matters most?”
Because the greatest gift we may give ourselves isn’t found under the tree. It may be the freedom to celebrate with generosity and love, without losing ourselves in the expectations of others.
Patti Cotton, MCC. Patti serves as a thought partner to CEOs and their teams to help manage complexity and change. Reach her at Patti@PattiCotton.com.