Grief and the Holidays

It's that time of year, when even those of us not acutely grieving a recent loss might find ourselves distracted by the incoming messages of holiday spirit, the way it feels like the world is demanding happiness, when happiness is not something we know at the moment if we are in active grief.

I use the word distracted because it's nicer than saying enraged. There is enough rage in the world right now and if we can move through the holidays without getting royally pissed off it will help.

When we are experiencing grief, almost all our energy goes into just getting through the day. A normal day. When we add the element of 'the holidays' the difficulty is multiplied to the point where some people begin to feel they don't want to leave the house. And I actually encourage that to a point. The intrusion on our psyche of walking into a retail establishment and being hit with jingle bells and Joy to the World can be too much. So I encourage people to get what they need before all of that starts happening and then make plans to be where you feel safest. And I am aware that by the time this episode airs, it will already have begun.

We get so used to whatever Holiday traditions have been in our lives that we think we have to follow the same patterns, even in times of grief. Some people find comfort honoring what they have always done and some people find that they cannot bear the thought of decorating for special Holidays or preparing traditional foods.

When we are grieving, we don't want to be told to be happy. We do not want to be merry. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say we would LOVE to feel happy and merry, and we are not able to in this particular time.We know we can't be those things and we can get pretty strangled by the conflicting feelings of rage, guilt, sadness and just wanting to be allowed to be who we are and feel what we're feeling. The pressure, both from ourselves and from the outside world, to be other than what we are, is something those who grieve often talk about around this time of the year. 

I think of Halloween being the kick off. And as I sit and type out these thoughts, it is November 1st. Thanksgiving comes early this year, in 3 weeks and then it's Christmas and then New years. Then Valentines Day, Easter, Mother's day, Father's day and the list goes on.

There will always be certain dates that make us vulnerable to the grip grief can have on our lives. Dates that are personal to your particular losses. So the prescription for how to get through the Holidays is to stay aware of what those days and dates are and to plan ahead of time how you THINK you will do best. Is it to be with other people? Is it to be alone? 

When we have had a significant loss, friends will call and want to invite us to gatherings or events. It's always OK to say, “Yes. I think I'd really like to try to come. And I might wake up that day, and know it isn't a good idea, so please be understanding of that. I really appreciate you reaching out.”

One of the things we often talked about in our groups was the idea of giving yourself permission to take the time you need. If this is not the year to celebrate in all the traditional ways but you are feeling like you will be a huge disappointment to other people, please believe me when I tell you, other people will understand. And if they don't, they don't. But that's theirs, not yours.

Sometimes we need to re-structure particular Holidays. We can decide how much we want to do and how much we honestly feel capable of doing. We can skip parts altogether and we can pare down other parts. We can try, and if we find ourselves drowning or unable to breathe, we need a back up plan, a safe place to go, someone we trust that we can call or go to. And we have to believe that it will not always be this way. It will not always be too hard or too sad or too much. Unless we find ourselves too comfortable in the discomfort, too used to not being ok. 

I know that when we first begin to experience happiness, joy or peace, when we first find ourselves laughing at something or when we experience that first whole day of no thoughts of grief, there can almost immediately be that sense of “Oh my God! What kind of person am I?”. “How can I be happy when my wife has died and our children are suffering?” or “How can I be here having fun and enjoying the company of someone when the person I love died and isn't here to enjoy it too?”

I do not have all the answers to anything. I share, in these episodes, what I have learned in the years I have supported people in their grief. And I want to share that I have seen that some people have a very difficult time ever being able to feel happy. It's as though they get so used to being un~happy that giving themselves permission to actually feel joy again is too scary. 

They might get hurt again, or disappointed. They might suffer another loss. Well, yes. Those are probably very good odds. But only if we risk the exposure. So, if we stay locked in grief, we will not open our hearts to love. And we will remain in pain. And walled off.

I think what I'm trying to say is it's ok to NOT BE ok. And, it's ok to BE ok.

If you're feeling resentful or angry because everywhere you go there's Christmas music playing or Holiday decorations practically throwing themselves off the shelves at you, if people are happy and wishing you Happy Holidays, sometimes it can help to do everything you can to avoid those places. And I really mean it. And when you are out, and someone wishes you happiness, it can also be helpful to just say, “Thank you.” or “Thank you. You too.” 

The people around us who may not share the grief, who may not have been personally impacted by whatever has happened, they may not know how their words fall when someone is lost in the wilderness of loss. It can be helpful to forgive them for not being hyper sensitive to our grief or depending on who it is and what our relationship with them is, if someone says “Happy Holidays”, we can say, “Boy, I don't know.....that's gonna be a tall order this year, but I'll try.”

The Holiday's are here. After a certain age, I can't imagine any of us who do not walk into the holidays carrying the grief of someone we have lost, someone we will never have around the holiday table again, but if you are young and doing it for the first time or the first 10 times, knowing that there will be rough moments and waves and boulders and whatever else you call those things that pick the scab off, AND having a plan for when that happens, can help get you through them with a little less damage.

Speaking of tables, if your family shares a special meal and someone is not going to be there for the first time, I have often suggested a place at the table be set for that person and a small candle placed in front of the chair. And recognition made, during the moment of silence or prayer, why that chair is there. It shrinks the elephant in the room and can make the absence of a loved one more manageable. They are being invited to join you in whatever form they can.

Sometimes I have worked with someone and they have come up with a plan, an exit strategy if their emotions explode, and then I learn later that it happened, but it also happened that someone standing nearby moved closer, put an arm around them and just held them while they cried.

Let people comfort you. I know, they do not know all the things you are feeling, but if it's the right person, they don't need to know. They see someone in pain and they don't need to ask you why and they will not tell you all the reasons you 'should' feel other than you do, they will just move a little closer and offer you a hand.

If you have lost someone, no matter the circumstances, attending some sort of event that honors grief at some point over the holidays can help you see that there are so many of us out here, surviving, thriving, learning to grieve and accept and surrender and embrace the pain because it is directly connected to the love.

Whatever city you live near, if there is a hospice there, almost all hospices will hold a candle light service or a tree lighting service or some sort of a gathering geared to the ones who have been left behind. So call them and ask. If your loved one was never on service with hospice it does not matter. You can still attend the event. 

I used to love going to the midnight candle light service at my grandmother's church. I can sit in church and listen beyond the proselytizing and the hymns that don't make sense to me. I can sit through all the pieces of a religious service that do not resonate with how I hold what is Holy waiting for that moment when Silent Night is sung and all the lights are off and everyone has a candle and I can feel the Spirit of that song seep deep into my soul. Those kinds of moments release the floodgates of any sorrows I have not mourned well or even tears over those losses I will never stop mourning.

Find your “midnight service” whatever that means to you. Create or locate a ceremony that will comfort you even if it also means one where you fall apart. You'll feel better and you'll still be loved. After all, like a sign I saw recently, tacos fall apart and we still love them....

This is SJ. Thank you for listening. I hope you'll join me again. WTVGT. AND, if you haven't visited the website, you can go to seanjeung.com to get a reminder each week when a new episode is posted. 

I'm just glad you're here and I hope you'll come back to WTVGT