As November and December arrive, something in us grows a little louder. The pace of the world speeds up, but our inner life slows down — and in that space, longing often rises to the surface. The holidays magnify what we have, but they also illuminate what we’re missing. Connection becomes both comfort and mirror.
Longing isn’t weakness — it’s information. In therapy, it often appears quietly:
“I wish it felt different.”
“I want more, but I don’t know how to ask.”
“I feel alone even when I’m not.”
Longing points to our most human needs: to be seen, valued, understood. And during a season built around togetherness, those needs become harder to ignore.
This time of year also activates our attachment patterns.
• Anxious attachment may bring old worries to the surface: Will I be remembered? Will I matter?
• Avoidant attachment may stir the urge to retreat or minimize closeness.
• Disorganized attachment may create a push-pull — wanting connection while bracing for disappointment.
None of this is failure. It’s the nervous system remembering what connection used to cost.
But longing isn’t only ache — it’s also hope. We long for what we still believe is possible. Even discomfort can be a sign that a deeper truth is trying to be heard.
So if this season feels emotionally complicated, you’re not alone. The holidays often ask us to hold gratitude and loneliness, love and distance, closeness and longing — all at once. That duality doesn’t make you broken; it makes you human.
A gentle place to start:
• Name what you’re longing for.
• Notice the story you attach to that longing.
• Let it soften you rather than shame you.
• Allow the possibility that connection can feel different than what you’ve known.
Longing isn’t the problem. It’s the doorway — a quiet invitation to understand yourself with more clarity, compassion, and truth as the year comes to a close.
