verall, holiday
time is great. I
usually spend it
reflecting on the
year and spending time with my loved ones. Holidays can also be emotional rollercoasters with lots of highs and lows. Sprinkle in holidays around eating and family and that’s a complicated recipe. At least that’s my experience. I owe my complicated reactions to food and family, especially after
some consistent therapy
There’s something about reverting to younger selves when we are around family. I know mixing in staying at my parents’ house in the room I grew up in somehow draws out sharper reactions from me. It’s probably the twin bed and the stars my brother put up on the ceiling when it was his room before I stole it after he went to college. A sitcom I watched in the early 2000s coined the term “revertigo” where one reverts back to old mannerisms and behaviors when surrounded by people and things of one’s past. I used to be guilty of “revertigo” when spending the holidays at my parents’ house and that caused a lot of inner turmoil and lessened my enjoyment of the time spent with my family and friends. Becoming more self-aware through my therapy and coaching journeys have helped me build tools to snap me out of the revertigo or become aware of what my triggers are. I remember some holidays when I would come back to my “normal life” after staying at my parents’ house being so frustrated with my recollection of reactivity. As the youngest, I am always fighting
what feels like a losing battle to be seen as an adult and the reactivity doesn’t help.
This "revertigo" hits hardest not just in my childhood bedroom, but around the dinner table. I could write a book about my reactivity around food. The holiday feast is often a minefield of old habits and silent scrutiny. I might feel the need to graze, people-please, or feel defensive when a comment is made—whether it’s about "eating enough", "saving room" for dessert or “we’re eating a big meal later, be mindful of what you are eating now”. These moments instantly trigger the feeling of being a child whose choices are subject to public discussion. The simple act of eating becomes a high-stakes performance, and it is this intersection of food rules and family observation that makes the holiday recipe truly complicated.
The hardest lesson I had to learn was that fast feelings do not do me any justice. I need to sit with those feelings, label them, and let them pass before I speak or act.
This learned pause—often just a five-second breath—is the key to unlocking my adult self in my childhood home. "Sitting with" a feeling means recognizing the familiar trigger, noticing the rush of "revertigo," and intentionally choosing a calm, non-reactive response instead of the sharp, younger one. It means realizing I can acknowledge the emotion—frustration, feeling unseen, defensiveness—without immediately externalizing it. This is the difference between letting the twin bed and the childhood stars define the holiday, and letting my present, self-aware self enjoy the time with my family as the complicated, wonderful adults we all are. The "complicated recipe" of the holidays is still complicated, but now, instead of being overwhelmed by the ingredients of food, history, and family expectations, I have the tools to be a more mindful chef.
O