Sometimes, Holidays are Hard (and that’s OK)
For the past two weeks, I’ve been trying to write this blog about moving through holiday time when you’re feeling anything but jolly, about how it’s ok to not be ok, about how it’s normal for grief, anxiety, depression and the like to show up as unwelcome houseguests during this season. But it turns out, it’s awfully hard to write about stuff like this when I’m in the middle of it! Yet I feel like it’s important to put this out there, because I think that far more of us feel this way that we might realize. So if you’ve been struggling in any way this holiday season, know that you’re not alone. I hope that this blog (and these links) are a helpful gift for you.
If I had a good friend who was struggling with some holiday emptiness, I think these are the top 3 pieces of advice I’d give:
1) Take it easy on yourself; it’s ok to do some things the easy way.
2) Ask for help, or accept it when offered.
3) Trust that whatever you can give is enough.
So as I struggle to find the right words for this blog, I’m going to take my own advice. I’m going to allow myself to do this in a way that’s a little easier (and probably better!). I’m going to accept help that came my way in my social media feeds. And I’m going to trust that it’s enough, and that at least one of you who reads this will find the hope and lifeline you need in these links.
Over the past two days, I’ve come across a blog (on LinkedIn) and a poem (on Facebook) that have the words I’ve been searching for. So whether you prefer poetry or prose, I pray that you’ll feel heard and seen in these writings.
First is a blog post, “When Joy and Grief Share a Room,” written by Catherine Gray, a dear friend and brilliant coach. Here’s an excerpt:
“I wonder if this is how we are doing life now, with all the things we are holding… that our minds and bodies are holding even when we aren’t consciously aware of what those things are? …Chests feel tight and sore with the weight of the loss and anxiety. Guts feel squirmy with excitement for all the possibilities and what ifs. Both of those things feel too much, too unknown, and too big to really lean into in case one doesn’t happen or the other ruins us… Last Christmas – grief came to me like a thief in the night. A total surprise. An unwelcome guest. … How I smile at the thought that I never understood why anniversaries of devastating events were worse than other days.” Read more…
(I really do hope you’ll read more, and if you do, try to hear it in a fantastic British accent – it makes it even better. I mean, who else uses “blinkered” in a sentence??)
If you’re more into poetry, I hope you’ll find balm for your heart in this work by John Roedel.
the wounds in our hearts
seem to ache a little deeper
during the holidays
don't feel like you
need to cover your wounded
heart in wrapping paper
this Christmas
Please, really, do read. It’s utterly beautiful. I’m not sure what’s more meaningful – his poem, or the hundreds of comments from others who’ve found that it gives voice to their grief, brokenness, and emptiness. I hope it touches your heart as it did mine.
So I’ve taken the easier path and accepted the help that came my way. Now I’m trusting that this is enough. I pray this blog finds you allowing all of the emotions of the season (the good, the bad, the ugly and the amazing) to color your world, and I wish you moments of grace throughout these days.