Getting Through the Holidays After a Loss or an Ending

Back in 2012, I wrote a little piece for Patch called "Anxiety and Divorce: Holiday Style." It was about custody calendars, thin wallets, and family traditions that suddenly belonged to nobody.

I've sat with a lot of people in a lot of Novembers since then. And here's what I know now that I only half knew then: it isn't just divorce. Any big ending does this.

A death. Your health, or the body you used to trust. A job you gave twenty years to. The house you raised your kids in. A version of your family that isn't coming back. When the lights go up and the music starts, all of it gets louder.

Why the holidays hit so hard

The holidays are built on sameness. Same table. Same ornaments. Same voices telling the same stories about the year the turkey caught fire.

When someone or something is missing, that sameness turns into a spotlight on the empty chair. And everyone around you seems to be merry on schedule. Grief doesn't care about the calendar, but the calendar sure seems to care about grief.

So let me start with the most important thing.

You don't have to have a good holiday

You don't. You don't have to be festive, grateful, or "doing so much better." This season, you only have to get through it, one day at a time.

That's not giving up. That's being honest about what you're carrying. And honesty is a much better place to start than a smile you can't hold up.

Here are the things that actually help. A few of them come straight from that 2012 article, because they still work.

1. Come back to your breath

When grief or anxiety grabs you in the middle of the grocery store, your breath is the one tool you never leave home without.

Breathe in through your nose for a count of four. Then breathe out slowly, for six or eight. That long exhale tells your nervous system you're safe enough to settle. Do it three times. Nobody in the cereal aisle will even notice.

2. Let the small good things count

The lights on the neighbor's porch. The smell of a fresh tree. Cold air on your face when you step outside. A really good cup of coffee.

These don't cancel out your grief, and they aren't supposed to. They sit beside it. On a hard day, noticing three small good things can be the difference between a terrible day and a hard-but-okay one. Small is the point.

3. Make one new memory

You don't have to recreate the old holiday without the person or life that made it what it was. That's often the most painful option on the menu.

Try something new instead. Join a friend's celebration. Take a short trip. See a movie and eat Chinese food on Christmas Day like half of America already does. You're not replacing what you lost. You're giving this year its own shape.

4. Give something away

Serving a meal at a shelter or a soup kitchen has a way of putting things back in perspective. So does a smaller version: donating in your loved one's name, buying a coffee for the person behind you, leaving a ridiculous tip.

Giving reminds you that you still have something to offer, even now. Just don't use it to outrun your grief. It works best alongside the hard feelings, not instead of them.

5. Always have a Plan B

Drive yourself to the gathering, so you can leave when you need to. Pick a quiet room in advance. Tell one trusted person, "If I go quiet, I might need a walk."

Knowing you can leave often makes it easier to stay.

6. One day at a time, literally

When the whole season feels like too much, shrink it. You don't have to get through December. You only have to get through today. Tomorrow you'll only have to get through tomorrow.

What I'd add now

In 2012, I wrote mostly about coping, about getting the grief under control so you could function. I still believe in those tools. But after all these years, I'd add one thing.

Grief doesn't need to be managed out of the room. It needs a seat at the table.

Light a candle for the one who's missing. Say their name out loud. Tell the turkey-fire story even if it makes you cry. Let the grief come in and sit down. It's love with nowhere else to go, and it gets a little lighter every time we stop fighting it.

Everyone grieves differently

One more thing I've learned. The people in your family probably aren't grieving the same way you are. One needs to talk about it. One needs to stay busy. One needs to be left alone. And each can feel like the others are doing it wrong.

If you've ever wondered why your way of grieving looks nothing like your sister's or your spouse's, I made a short, free assessment called How Do You Grieve? It takes a few minutes and shows you your grief style, what helps it, and what doesn't. Take it here.

And if you'd like a companion for the whole season, I wrote Gently Through the Holidays: A Grief Companion for exactly this. It has plans for the gatherings, words for the hard conversations, and 31 gentle days to get you to January.

I hope you find a soft blanket, a warm drink and at least one person who lets you be exactly as you are this season.

Now go find your coziest socks.

— Carolyn