She Has No Name
Is Adult-ing Hoovering the Hooray from the Holidays?
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My favorite feral animal is summer me. But in the words of Richard Gilmore aka, the honorary grandfather of this season, “I am an Autumn”. I vividly remember every June, looking forward with hope and excitement to embrace all the wonderful chaos my summer choices would inevitably bring. But, something happened this year, I realized that summers come with a lot of expectations that are preset in us, even as early as childhood.
Alarm clocks and rushed mornings are replaced by slow starts, chirping birds, and Fruit Loops in your PJs. Lackluster school lunches are swapped for hot dogs at the game, ice cream, and funnel cakes at the fair. No one stresses about bedtime, and as a result, kids feel like they have room to make more choices. We plan most of the fun things we want to do during the summer breaks because we are “free.” Free from the constructs and mundanity of our regular life. No bedtimes, no homework, no school. This idea of summer “freedom” is filled with choices and a lack of limitations.
Being Canadian—or from any cold climate—adds another layer of pressure because there are only so many days where the weather will cooperate with your summer visions.This cycle of carefree summers lasted well into my adulthood. And while I’m always very intentional about who and how I spend my time, I admit to suffering from slight summer FOMO—cramming my summers with as many events and activities as possible.
At the start of this summer, the once exciting abundance of summer choices and freedom began to feel tarnished by a nagging sense of overwhelm. I briefly considered doing less but quickly remembered that all my past summers have always served my soul and the adventure it craved. They allowed me to regain focus come fall, and I wasn’t willing to give that up.
Upon delving deeper into this feeling, I discovered that I’m not alone. In fact, most of us suffer from post-holiday burnout. Surely, the complexities of adult life and shifting social roles contribute to this shift, but the main culprits are actually overstimulation and our perception of time, both of which are deeply rooted in human neuroplasticity.
As we age, our brains become more sensitive to overstimulation. Youth is often filled with high-energy activities and stimuli, which can be exhilarating. But as adults, our emotional regulation systems develop, making us more aware of and sensitive to stimuli that might now feel overwhelming. What was once thrilling might now feel intrusive or exhausting.
This change comes alongside the brain's increased capacity to process and react to sensory information more critically. Activities that once thrilled us might now feel overwhelming without adequate recovery and breaks, illustrating neuroplasticity’s role in altering our sensory processing. As our prefrontal cortex develops, we may find things like loud music, bright lights, traveling, and unexpected experiences—very common during holidays—more overwhelming, as our sensitivity to stimuli increases.
There’s also a shift in dopamine responses. As adults, the brain’s dopamine system becomes less sensitive to the same rewards. Activities that once provided intense excitement might no longer produce the same level of enjoyment, adding to the sense of overwhelm.
For children, whose brains are constantly learning, time seems to move slower. The holidays feel like a much longer stretch of freedom. Their brains are wired to seek exploration, discovery, and play, making them more attuned to joy in simple, present-moment activities. With fewer responsibilities, kids experience the holidays passively, with a positive outlook.
However, as adults, we often feel like time moves faster, and summer vacations or holidays feel rushed. This perception of time contributes to the pressure to make the most of it, making these periods feel overwhelming rather than relaxing. Our developed prefrontal cortex, responsible for planning and thinking about the future, can go into overdrive, leading to overthinking and anticipating stress. This makes it harder to simply enjoy the moment. Coupled with the fact that adults juggle more responsibilities, high-stimulation environments can add to our cognitive load, making intense stimuli feel like a burden rather than enjoyment.
If you’re experiencing this shift, taking time to reflect on how your feelings have changed and adjusting your approach (or seeking support) can help manage the overwhelm. This can lead to a better understanding of how to balance expectations and find glimpses of childhood joy in the holidays again.Interestingly, while post-holiday burnout is common after long weekends and statutory holidays, most people report the highest negative feelings after summer. In fact, the end of summer often brings a spike in serotonin levels—a boost in mood, relief, and increased mental clarity.
Additionally, autumn is considered a temporal landmark, a psychological concept where specific dates (like birthdays or New Year’s Eve) help us structure our lives and mark significant events. For many, fall marks the start of a new school year—a time of fresh starts and opportunities, often linked to feelings of nostalgia, excitement, and anticipation. Like summer’s association with freedom, these autumn feelings are embedded in us from childhood.
Autumn is also home to several major holidays, like Halloween and Thanksgiving, which are associated with positive social interactions, traditions, and festivities. Unlike the rather vague summer holiday, these celebrations are repeated year after year, often involving known traditions like turkey dinners or trick-or-treating. This predictability significantly reduces the stress of planning and overstimulation, making these holidays less of a burden to most adults.
In an effort to take action where possible while letting go of stress over things I can’t control, I chose to step back from social media and fully embrace the moments without the need to share everything. Honestly, it didn’t instantly bring me more joy, but it gave me the space to create memories that did.
Overall, our love for autumn is a complex interplay of biological responses, psychological associations, and cultural traditions. The temporal landmarks that Fall provides contribute to its unique appeal and bring a sense of structured comfort. I can’t help but wonder—is this why Pumpkin Spice Lattes and the candle aisle at HomeSense have us all in a chokehold? Are we just subconsciously associating them with an end to our summer sufferings?