Anxiety, Exhaustion and Headache: The Aftermath of Thanksgiving Four Weeks After the Elections

The smell of roasted turkey fills the house, mingling with the warm aroma of pumpkin pie.

Candles flicker on the long dining table, adorned with autumn leaves and ceramic turkeys.

It’s Thanksgiving—a time for gratitude, family, and... tension. For Jack and Nina, this year’s holiday wasn’t just about mashed potatoes and stuffing. It was about navigating a minefield of political conversations four weeks after a divisive election.

Jack’s Thanksgiving

Jack adjusted his shirt and glanced at his wife, Lisa, as they pulled into his parents’ driveway.

The house, a familiar sight from his childhood, now felt like enemy territory. He knew what was coming.

“Jack, welcome!” his dad greeted him with a hearty handshake. “I guess the Democrats didn’t manage to steal the election this time, huh?” The comment hung in the air like an unwelcome guest.

Jack smiled tightly and stepped inside, where his cousins were gathered around the television.

“You know,” one of them started, barely looking up from his phone, “they’re killing babies after they’re born now. That’s what you’re supporting, right?”

Jack felt a knot form in his stomach. He reached for a glass of wine, the liquid offering a brief escape.

In the kitchen, his mother was arranging plates, her tone cheerful and oblivious.

“Can we go back to saying Merry Christmas now?” she asked. “Enough of this ‘Happy Holidays’ nonsense.”

Dinner unfolded as he expected—between bites of turkey and mashed potatoes, the conversation veered back to politics, each comment a thinly veiled dig.

By the time dessert was served, Jack’s head throbbed, a dull ache behind his eyes.

Lisa gave him a knowing look, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

“Let’s call it a night,” he whispered. The car ride home was silent, the weight of the evening pressing down on them both.

Nina’s Thanksgiving

Nina parked in front of her sister’s house, her grip firm on the steering wheel. The yard was adorned with signs: Love is Love and In This House, We Believe… She took a deep breath, adjusted her jacket, and walked to the door.

Her sister opened it with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nina,” she said, leading her inside. The warmth of the house felt superficial, a thin veneer over the judgment she knew awaited.

At the table, her brother-in-law wasted no time. “So,” he began, “how does it feel to support racists and misogynists?”

Her sister shook her head. “How can anyone still support this man? The problem is that voters are just completely misinformed.”

Nina remained composed, her fork slicing through a piece of turkey.

Across the table, her cousin sat in stony silence. They hadn’t spoken in months, ever since she called Nina "transphobic" for saying there were only two genders. She felt the tension but didn’t shrink from it.

As the evening wore on, Nina noticed the growing tension in her chest and the onset of nausea, her body responding to the relentless verbal attacks. She glanced at her younger brother, who shared her views but stayed silent, eyes fixed on his plate. By the time dessert arrived, Nina had made her decision.

“I'm leaving,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

On the drive home, she rolled down the window, letting the cool night air wash over her, a temporary relief from the emotional exhaustion.

The Aftermath: Drained, Exhausted, and Misunderstood

For Jack and Nina, the aftermath of Thanksgiving is eerily similar. Jack lies awake in bed, the dull ache in his head refusing to fade. Nina sinks into her couch, rubbing her temples, feeling as though she’s carried the weight of her family’s judgments home with her.

Both feel drained—not just physically, but emotionally. The headache and exhaustion are symptoms of something deeper: anxiety born from suppressing their true feelings.

Jack thinks of all the things he didn’t say—the rebuttals left unspoken, the urge to defend himself swallowed for the sake of peace. Nina reflects on the tightrope she walked, balancing composure with the desire to push back against every insult disguised as a joke.

Finding a Way Through the Anxiety

First comes awareness. Jack realized it when he rubbed his temples in the car. Nina felt it in the tension in her shoulders as she peeled out of her sister’s driveway.

The body speaks before the mind catches up. The headache, the exhaustion—it’s anxiety, a signal that something is off.

Then comes the courage to name it. The next time Jack finds himself cornered with a comment he might take a breath and respond, “Are you interested in having a real conversation, or just throwing out talking points?”

Nina, faced with her sister’s suspicion, might look her in the eye and say, “When you lead with insults, you lose my attention. If you want to talk, I’m here. But not like this.”

Finally, there’s the boundary. At some point, it’s okay to say, “We’re not going to change each other’s minds. Let’s put it aside and enjoy the holiday.” Boundaries aren’t walls—they’re doors. They protect, but they also leave room for healthier connections.

Reclaiming Your Peace

If you’ve ever left a family gathering feeling more drained than uplifted, you’re not alone.

The physical symptoms—whether it’s a headache, a tight chest, or sheer exhaustion—are often signs of unspoken emotions struggling to surface.

Therapy offers a space to uncover the hurt or anger hiding beneath. It’s a place to learn how to stand up for yourself with confidence, to set boundaries without guilt, and to reclaim your peace—even in the most challenging situations.

You don’t have to navigate it alone.

Your voice matters. Your feelings matter. And with support, you can find the strength to face even the most difficult conversations—and leave them behind without carrying the weight home.

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