Map Your Healing Journey

Grieving during the holiday season is a special kind of torture.

Bright lights, happy smiles, and festive music surround us. In fact, holiday torture is EVERYWHERE. And it seems like the Christmas season (especially) pokes at whatever grief is most painful and poignant.

Example: One of our dogs died on December 10th, and I have *never* seen more dogs in my life than I have over the last few days. In person, online, across my social media feeds. Dogs are everywhere, and cuter than ever, at times making my heart physically hurt in my chest.

While this particular grief is especially tender right now, I am not a stranger to holiday hard times.

My Experience with Holiday Grieving

Grieving has been part of my holiday season since I was 16 years old.

That’s when I first remember crying, the afternoon of Christmas day, with no understanding of why or what triggered it or with the awareness of what a trigger was. On further reflection, I remember my 16th birthday – just a month before Christmas – being particularly fraught with tears and emotional turmoil.

It wasn’t until I was in my 30’s that I realized the reason. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and a large part of those experiences occurred during the holiday season. At least, that’s what my brain remembers; this is the association I made as a child.

For many years from the time I was 16 years old, Halloween would hit along with depression. My birthday and Thanksgiving would roll around and I did what I could to cope. I spent many Thanksgiving days trying to sleep on the couch or read in a space away from everyone else. December would hit and – bam – I would be sick.

I’m not talking the sniffles. I mean down and dirty, flu symptoms, viral infections that incapacitated me, sending me to bed. They would eventually morph into bacterial infections like sinus infections or bronchitis. I would drag myself to the doctor, get antibiotics, and spend weeks recovering.

I was in my 30s when I figured out that my annual struggle with illness over the holidays had a very real emotional and physiological source. Now I am in my mid-40s, and I don’t get sick anymore over Christmas, especially after I did PTSD Remediation.

What I Know About Grieving

Last month, I sat at a coffee shop, crying into my Americano. My heart and body felt heavy with symptoms of depression. Looking back, I wonder if – intuitively – I was being emotionally prepared for my dog crossing the rainbow bridge.

Feeling Depressed? I Wrote Us a Love Letter | Map Your Healing Journey

I took all of those feelings and wrote a Love Letter to Depressed People over at Sweatpants & Coffee. I mention it because it might provide a few moments of relief. Maybe a feeling of validation and that somebody understands or can at least identify with what you’re going through.

But if it’s simple raw grief you are experiencing, maybe we can connect right here. When things seem like such a mess, I like to boil everything down to what I know.

I wish I had answers for how to make this time easier. Know that people will say stupid things, like “They’re in a better place” and “There’s no more pain” and “Be thankful for the love that you did have.”

Maybe those words help, but if these comments make you want to punch people in their throats, know that this is completely justified. Maybe not to them, but to me. Know that it might help to make a script you can follow when people say nice and supportive things – “Thank you, I appreciate it” – and when they say stupid things – “Please leave me alone with your dumb words, they are useless.”

(Side note: that last bit made me giggle. I might just try that.)

Know that at every day, every hour, every moment, grief will have its own agenda. Make plans, sure. But understand that these plans may be derailed by unexpected emotions (physical sensations) and feelings (the meaning we make from those physical sensations). Know that leaning into the emotions and feelings will help alleviate the pressure and move grief out of your body.

Know that it helps to verbalize grief. Crying, screaming, wailing, yelling, they all help. Words help, too, if possible. After losing my dog, I spent the first two days pounding my fists on pillows and yelling, “It’s not fair,” and “I miss her,” and “I want her back.” All of this helps. Grief is energy, and energy needs movement for release.

Know that basic self-care really does help. Try to eat protein and drink water and sleep when you can. Remember to take your meds. Get outside for a two-minute walk or open a door or window and get fresh air.

More Than One Thing Can Be True at the Same Time

A right hand of one person reaches for the left hand of another. Their index fingers intertwine. An inked anchor shows on the exposed parts of each finger.

Finally, know that you are not alone. I know you feel alone and like this pain will never recede and the tears will never stop. I know you feel the smothering weight on your chest that comes and goes, and maybe some survival guilt, asking questions like, “What if?” and “Maybe I should have done this…?” That the waves of grief and the tears come whenever they want.

But also know that – if you look for them, if you are aware and open – there will be pinpricks of light.

We can grieve and experience moments of joy, no matter how fleeting.

There are moments of peace in the midst of the storm, which may feel uncomfortable, but I’m telling you, rest during these times.

There will be things about Christmas and the overall holiday season that you truly enjoy, like walking a labyrinth on the solstice or wrapping gifts for those you love or gathering together with people with whom you can be completely safe.

I know this is a difficult time. I know that, to the bottom of my soul. And in this time of grieving, I wish us all rest and peace and renewal that comes with a new year.