the most un-wonderful time of the year

Hello, friend.

In case you’ve experienced personal loss recently, I wanted to acknowledge that this time of year can be thorny to navigate. Good intentions in our in-boxes may actually exacerbate awareness of the disparity between what was and what is. 

“Hope you’re surrounded by love and warmth this holiday.”

“Sending joy and peace to you and your family this holiday season!”

“Happy holidays! Hoping you and yours have a beautiful start to the new year.” 

Ouch. It’s enough to make you (and by that I mean me) want to faceplant into the nearest sofa. If you’re missing someone, it’s completely normal for the holidays to be extra tough. Firsts can be particularly difficult. The first Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, etc. without someone that you used to share those moments with can make their absence more real than everyday life. 

What I’ve learned from my own grief journey is that it helps to talk about your loved one, ideally with a friend or family member who also knew them. Tell stories. Share memories. Say their name out loud. It can be bittersweet, but it’s so much better than pretending to be okay when you’re aching on the inside. Usually this makes me feel more connected to them, and the hot poker pain mellows into a honeyed state of profound appreciation. 

Over time, some years are harder than others. I’ve been blind-sided by grief on certain holidays, birthdays / anniversaries (“Oh wow, didn’t see that coming,” I say to myself through streaming tears as I sit on the floor of my closet), when others are genuinely good. It’s hard to know when the hot poker will hit, so if it does, please be gentle with yourself. This isn’t some shortcoming of grit on your part. It’s a natural part of loving someone who isn’t here any more. Beating yourself up about it not only doesn’t help, it hinders the process. 

And of course, another way to avoid emotional bottlenecks is to put pen to paper. Write about how you’re feeling, identify what triggered the awareness of loss, what you miss about them, what they brought out in you. Wring it out on the page. Or write to them. Whatever you want to say, what you wish you could tell them, here in your journal you still (and always) can. If this feels too tender, I understand. Don’t force it. You can come back to your notebook whenever the time is right.  I consider it a privilege to grieve because it means I have loved so fully and so well that I feel this rending loss. I have been lucky. 

So whether or not you’re in the club of loss, I invite you to think about someone else who might be having a tough time during the holidays and gently check in on them. It doesn’t need to be heavy. “Hey, amiga. Thinking of you and your Mom today. Sending you so much love.” If they want to share their feelings, they can. Just being present to their experience is the most exquisite gift you could give them. 

Be good to yourself and each other out there.

In Swellness,

Laura