Christmas makes everything twice as sad.
Douglas Coupland
Christmas tree (photo Maaco, flickr)
The holidays can be a minefield for those who are grieving a recent loss or for those processing trauma and grief (no matter how old). Everyone seems happy, happy, happy. If you don't feel similarly happy, all of this good cheer can be as grating as fingernails scraping across a blackboard. Even worse, it can trigger deep sadness or a sense of being cut off from the people who are bustling about getting ready for the holidays. Worse yet, are the parties that are obligatory this time of year and family gatherings where you feel like you have to fake being happy.
Sometimes, of course, even those of us who are grieving or processing trauma get into the Christmas spirit. Be thankful, as I am, when that happens. Other times, we may want to pull ourselves into a hole until it's all over. This may be easier if you live alone, but if you have a family that includes children, ignoring Christmas or Hanukkah isn't in the cards. Besides, who wants to end up like the Grinch, with a heart that is "two sizes too small"?
Hanukkah candles (photo by Avital Pinnick, flickr)
So far this year, I've done a bit of Christmas shopping, bought Christmas cards and stamps, and volunteered to send cards out for my mom who isn't able to do many herself. Doesn't seem like much, but even though it is only December 7th, I've already encountered triggers. Today, I received a Christmas card from my middle daughter. I was happy to get it and opened it and put it on the mantle, with the other Christmas card I got yesterday from a dear friend. But even such simple actions can trigger sadness. When I got the card, I couldn't help but think about how I will probably not hear from my oldest daughter, the one I am estranged from, and a wave of sadness spread through my heart. This is especially true because she and I reunited (after 29 years of separation) on December 26 (Boxing Day) and so the Christmas season will always be associated with that joyous occasion and, in her absence, it will be harder to focus on the good memories.
This posting is the first in a series on coping with the holiday season, which will focus on such topics as:
- How to be gentle with yourself during this difficult season
- Things to be thankful for
- Giving to others in ways you feel comfortable with
- The quieter joys of the holiday season
- Holiday triggers and how to cope with them
- Comforting holiday movies, music, and more
Go to Coping with the Holidays for some tips to get you started.
A poem to leave you with.
The song
From somewhere
a calm musical note arrives.
You balance it on your tongue,
A single ripe grape,
till your whole body glistens.
In the space between breaths
you apply it to any wound
and the wound heals.
Soon the nights will lengthen,
you will lean into the year
humming like a saw.
You will fill the lamps with kerosene,
knowing somewhere a line breaks,
a city goes black,
people dig for candles in the bottom drawer.
You will be ready. You will use the song like a match.
It will fill your rooms
opening rooms of its own
so you sing, I did not know my house was this large.
Naomi Shihab Nye
(the photo above is by Bill Gracey, flickr)
