Not This Year, Grandma: Breaking Generational Patterns (Before the Holidays)

It’s that time again. The holidays are fast approaching, which means another round of family season.

For some, this time of year ushers in a sense of joy, homecoming, and reconnection. But for others, it brings with it the dread of potential conflict and the reopening of old wounds. If you relate to the latter, you probably also know just how easy it is to slip back into roles you thought you’d left far, far behind. If life is a record, its well-worn grooves are etched by the energetic weight of not only our own history, but of those who came before us, leaving us (more often than not) playing the same ‘ol tune. 

Ancestral energy, as I call it, isn’t some mystical force. It’s composed of the habits, beliefs, traumas, and traditions of our predecessors. For example, maybe your grandmother regarded rest as laziness because her survival depended on constant productivity. That’s the kind of belief that could easily trickle down without question and cement itself as a silent rule in your mind. So now, when you try to take a break, you feel guilty, even though your life is vastly different from grandma’s. That guilt is ancestral energy in action: modeled, reinforced, and internalized over time.

So, before we spend yet another year subconsciously trudging through the same inherited chaos disguised as tradition, let’s take a pause. Now is a great time to take inventory and ask ourselves: What am I carrying that didn’t start with me, and do I still need it?

What We Inherit (That Isn’t Genetic)

Before a pattern can be broken, it has to be acknowledged. And some of our heaviest patterns didn’t start with us. They were inherited, not through DNA, but through stories, silence, survival strategies, and “that’s just how we do things.” Here are just a few examples of what those patterns might look like:

Trauma - Your grandfather was chastised at a young age for voicing his emotions and spent the rest of his life internalizing them. Your mother followed suit. Now, every time you feel overwhelmed, your instinct is to shut down and "get over it" quietly. Emotional expression feels unsafe or like a burden. At family gatherings, you avoid bringing up conflict, even when boundaries are crossed. Your priority is to "keep the peace", even at your own emotional expense.

Beliefs - A scarcity mindset passed down from Depression-era grandparents makes you feel like there’s never enough of anything. Money. Food. Time. Love. As a result, you over-prepare for the holidays: stockpiling food, overspending on gifts, and overscheduling your time. You live with a constant hum of panic that you haven’t done enough, given enough, been enough.

Roles - Your family designated you “the responsible one” at age 10, and you’ve been holding the clipboard ever since: planning events, smoothing tensions, checking in on everyone else’s needs. You’re unable to actually enjoy the holidays because you’re too busy managing everything. Even when no one asks you to, you assume the emotional labor. And if you don’t take charge, that’s when the guilt creeps in.

Coping Mechanisms - Your dad coped with stress by detaching, whether physically or emotionally. You learned early on that disappearing (into your room, into a book, into work) is how you survive tension. You mentally check out at family events. You keep conversations surface-level. You might even skip the gathering entirely, not because you don’t care, but because you never learned how to stay present in discomfort.

All of these patterns have one thing in common: repetition through ritual. And they’re often hidden in plain sight, tucked into family routines, many of which may seem completely innocuous. The same person always carves the turkey. Someone always gets too drunk, and someone else smooths it over. A passive-aggressive comment gets ignored, just like every year. But these aren’t just quirks. They’re rehearsed roles, and they’re often rooted in inherited dynamics. 

Spotting the Pattern Before It Runs the Show

The tricky thing about inherited patterns is that they often feel like second nature. But the truth is, they’re usually just the default settings we never thought to question. And if we don’t pause to notice them, they’ll run the show, whether we want them to or not.

Not sure how to tell what’s yours and what’s been handed down? Here are a few ways to spot generational patterns:

• You have emotional reactions that feel disproportionate or confusing.Someone criticizes your cooking, and you’re suddenly five years old again. You freeze when someone raises their voice. These types of reactions are often echoes, passed down from generations that had to prioritize survival over softness.

  
  

• You hear that “this is just how we do things” energy.Whether it’s about how holidays are hosted or who’s expected to clean up afterward, these statements are often code for “don’t question the system.” But familiar doesn’t always mean healthy, and reevaluating tradition doesn’t make you rebellious. It makes you conscious.

  
  

• You feel guilt, shame, or obligation... with no clear reason why.You’re carrying the weight of someone else’s expectations, and you’re not even sure how it got there. Maybe it shows up for you as over-delivering, never letting yourself rest, or feeling like you owe everyone an explanation.

  
  

If any of these scenarios resonate with you, take a moment this week to put pen to paper and answer this question: What does your family expect from you that doesn’t align with who you are?

What comes up may surprise you.

So.. How Do We Change It?

Each moment you notice an old pattern pop up is an invitation to shift it. But HOW you do it is key: not with blame, not with shame, and definitely not with a wrecking ball. Change doesn’t mean burning everything down. It can be quiet or subtle and still powerful. And it happens with small, conscious actions over time, rather than a hard reset into a different state of being.

Here are some small ways to honor your peace this holiday season:

• Go for a grounding solo walk before the big family dinner. 

• Set a small boundary without launching into a 12-point explanation.

• Decline to engage in the same tired arguments. “I’m not going to talk about that today” is a full sentence. 

• Let yourself leave early. Staying past your limit doesn’t equal love. It equals burnout.

And when you recognize an old behavior creeping in, try naming it. Get curious about its origin. Then remind yourself of this profound truth: I can choose differently now.

You also get to choose what to keep, because not everything that’s passed down needs to be shed. Maybe your nonna made a mean soup. Maybe standing up for the underdog runs in your family. Maybe you value the tradition of deep belly laughter in hard times.

Whatever it is, keep it. Carry it with pride. Just make sure it’s intentional. Because what you take with you carries into the future, whether your lineage ends with you or not.

Your legacy is yours to craft. This holiday season, be the ancestor who changes the story.