We're living in a moment where it’s easier than ever to forget that other people are real.

Our modern culture makes it simple to reduce strangers to stereotypes, online commenters to enemies, and even our own family members into a single defining trait.

• Social media rewards outrage.
• Politicians stoke division.
• Bot-driven comment sections amplify hostility.

Eventually, we start believing that cruelty is normal and empathy is optional.

But I've been thinking about this for a while and we really need to talk about the fact that...

There are no NPCs in real life.

• No “non-player characters.”
• No side characters.
• No extras in your story.

Every single person you meet carries an entire universe inside of them...

• their childhood
• their heartbreaks
• their beliefs
• their fears
• their conditioning
• their inherited wounds
• their cultural programming
• their longing to be seen
• their mistakes
• their grief
• their trying
• their failing
• their trying again

Real people are complex.
Real people are contradictory.
Real people change.



Real people are more than the worst thing they’ve said or the most annoying opinion they’ve shared.

• And yet, somehow, we’ve drifted into a world where it feels safer to flatten each other than to face each other.

So, I'm extending an invitation to return.
To remember.
To re-humanize the world.

And to begin that work right now, as we enter the holiday season, when human connection should matter most.

Why We Stop Seeing People Clearly

• When the world feels overwhelming, a stressed nervous system looks for shortcuts.

Reducing people to categories becomes a coping mechanism:

• “People like her always…”
• “He’s just one of those…”
• “If they vote that way, then they must…”

It feels safer to judge than to understand.

It feels easier to assume than to stay curious.

Add to that:

• social media echo chambers
• political manipulation
• cultural polarization
• overpopulation-related burnout
• chronic stress
• economic uncertainty
• and a flood of hostile digital voices that aren’t even human (bot farms)

And suddenly empathy feels like a luxury instead of a baseline consideration.

But the answer to this is not  to put on more armor.

• It’s in more nervous system awareness.
• More self-responsibility.
• More compassion that doesn’t require agreement or sameness to exist.

The holidays are the perfect time to see people again.

This time of year is sacred. Not in a commercial sense, but in a deeply human one.

It’s one of the rare moments when many people slow down enough to reconnect with family, with chosen family, with themselves.

But these gatherings can also be difficult, especially when someone in the room has vastly different views, values, or emotional skill levels.

Because It's The Holidays

This is where one powerful truth matters most:

Everyone deserves a safe and peaceful holiday.

Everyone.
Not just the agreeable ones.
Not just the emotionally regulated ones.
Not just the people who live like you do.

EVERYONE.

• There are only a handful of days each year when society collectively pauses, days meant for rest, nourishment, and belonging. Days when people who have been struggling all year finally get to exhale a little.

These days should be protected.

They are not the time for:

• ideological arguments
• political debates
• old trauma cycles
• trying to “fix” people
• pushing emotional discomfort onto others because the moment allows easy access

There are over 360 other days for those conversations. By all means, address these issues then.

But holidays?

• They should be a soft landing for all of us.

And if someone in the room doesn’t feel safe, welcome, or emotionally respected, then the spirit of the day has already been lost.

Compassion Doesn’t Require Agreement

Compassion is not endorsement.

• It’s not acceptance of harmful behavior.
• It’s not permission for abuse.
• And it’s not “letting people get away with things.”

Compassion is simply recognizing:

“This person is a whole human with a story I don’t know.”

Sometimes compassion sounds like:

• “I’m going to step outside to take a breath.”
• “Let’s steer the conversation somewhere lighter for today.”
• “I’m choosing not to engage in this topic right now.”
• “I need to go refill my cup for a moment.”

And sometimes (especially for survivors) it’s knowing that:

1. You don’t have to attend every gathering you’re invited to.
2. You don’t have to stay in rooms that dysregulate your nervous system.
3. You don’t have to tolerate harmful behavior out of obligation.

RELATED POST: 8 Ways to Navigate the Holidays After Estrangement or Leaving an Abusive Relationship

But if discomfort is coming from ordinary human difference, not danger, then gentle tolerance can be a beautiful act of compassion. Not for the other person, but for your own emotional maturity and integrity.

A Lesson from Real Trauma Work

I witnessed something incredibly powerful with one of my clients who learned over time that peace came from meeting her own needs in real time...

Not from changing other people.

She learned how to:

• Step away when conversations became energetically heavy
• Regulate her own nervous system instead of absorbing the room’s climate
• Choose her emotional experience, even when others were chaotic
• Rest afterward rather than spiraling about what others did or didn’t do

• This is resilience.
• This is healing.
• This is how we maintain our humanity in complex families and complex times.

And this skill can transform holiday gatherings, not by fixing others, but by holding our own center.



Seeing Humanity In Others Helps Us Heal

When you choose to see people as complex rather than simple, something shifts:

• Your nervous system softens.
• Your fear-based reactions shrink.
• Your sense of connection grows.
• Your compassion expands in ways that don’t compromise your boundaries.

You become the person who can walk into a room of differences and still stay rooted in yourself.

You become the person who, with quiet dignity, helps re-humanize the world simply by refusing to flatten others into caricatures.

You become the person who sees deeply because you have learned, through your own pain and healing, how much it matters for someone to see you.

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