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Merry Shrinkmas everyone.

'Tis the season to call your psychotherapist and then, if things have been really bad, dial up a divorce lawyer when you take down your decorations in January.

That the holiday season is a stressful time for family relationships is conventional wisdom, which is why it doesn't hurt to lighten up with some gentle anti-Hallmark humour.

It's not just the problem of what I call "seasonal relationship disorder." There's an added pressure on marriages already in distress, which is as complex and multifaceted as, well, a marriage.

The result is that many divorce lawyers report an increase in initial consultations about divorce at this time of year.

"I had four new calls inside of three or four hours last Friday," says David Jarvis, a partner with Beard Winter in Toronto who has practised family law for 30 years.

The coming holidays are like personal birthdays, a time that is usually one of great intimacy between couples, when one partner not just expects, but probably needs, the adoration of the other. In the busy race of modern life, it's a crucial love tune-up.

I remember many times in my 18-year marriage, before and after children, when Christmas was a storybook event, with mistletoe hung in several thresholds and above the bed. We opened presents to each other almost all day long, because we instigated an elaborate clue game. One clue on the tree or under it would lead to a nook or cranny or cupboard, where there was another clue that led to another one, and so on, until finally you found your treasure - a pair of silver earrings, say, wrapped up and hidden under an overturned flower pot in the garden.

At that point in a marriage, there is no pressure to make the holiday special. Love makes it so - effortlessly.

Couples like to create their own traditions, laying down happy memories, not only to build a foundation for themselves and their potential future family, but also to try to swaddle each other's past hurts, from childhood maybe, or just those suffered in the cut and thrust of daily life.

So when a marriage is coming apart, the holidays can be painful. You are like an amputee, feeling the limb of that love, but knowing it is no longer there. Or, if you're trying to force the old happiness for the sake of your family, and especially the children, you feel like a hypocrite.

"The holidays are supposed to be a time of warm, fuzzy feelings, and when you are in the midst of it and don't feel it, many people feel it is time to move on," says Vi Neufeld, a registered marriage and couples therapist in Vancouver who has practised for 28 years.

But let's be clear. The decision to begin divorce proceedings around the holidays doesn't just happen because he didn't give you the sweater you wanted or she was rude to your mother.

Anyone who has been in a marriage of some length usually knows how to ride through the ups and downs of the season. There are the bad-gift holidays, like the time your beloved gives you a stupid, thoughtless present, such as a tea cozy, and you think: "Oh my God, I married a jerk who gives me a tea cozy What was I thinking?" And there are the holidays from hell, when everyone gets on everyone else's nerves.

But those come and go, and even become part of family lore. Who would ever forget the Christmas when Dad dumped the plum pudding on his father-in-law's lap over that comment about his hairpiece? (A fictional example, I assure you.)

"Couples do not leave marriages lightly," Ms. Neufeld says. But rather than counsel clients in troubled marriages to float through the holidays and try to avoid the triggers of the heightened emotional season, she tells them to "honour what you feel."

"You should utilize your feelings," she says. "If you're having a strong reaction, that means there's a live wire underneath. You should never ignore it. You should listen to it."

Like many divorced adults, I experienced a horrible Christmas near the end of my marriage.

My family, including my parents, my siblings, their spouses and the grandchildren, were all in Maui for Christmas, 1999, and the millennial New Year. My husband put on a good show for his in-laws, even though our marriage was on shaky ground.

After they left, we had a few days as a family by ourselves, and that's when he vented, saying hurtful things. He then brought me a glass of champagne while I was soaking my misery in the bath. It was his typical pattern of hurtfulness followed by a show of remorse.

Initially, I followed what I had always done: I thought that I had done something wrong. I excused his verbal assault, thinking he was under stress. But then, for whatever reason, I suddenly saw the dysfunction for what it was.

The next day, as I was walking alone along the sea path, I realized I had to do something to change it. On the flight home, I wept. A stewardess even leaned over to ask me if I was all right. She thought I was scared of flying. But I was distraught because I was no longer willing to gloss over the problems. I knew what I had to face.

My husband, sitting across the aisle and ignoring me, told the kids, when they asked why I was crying, that I was just sad because the holiday was over.

Children, of course, are why we pretend to be happy for much longer than we really are. They are why we try to get through the holidays in one piece, as a family.

There is also the impact of the new year, when people want to begin afresh. "Many decide they want to live differently in the new year," notes Victoria Smith, a collaborative lawyer in Toronto, who concedes that there is often a surge of new divorce cases in January.

In my case, I began the fresh millennium with regular visits to a therapist. It took me another year and a half to make the split, largely because of my worry about the three children.

But still, I look back at that Christmas on the beautiful shores of Maui as the one that drew some kind of line in the white sand. Now, years later, I still can barely look at the pictures.

shampson@globeandmail.com