On Grief & Joy

The holidays is a joyous season for me. It's also a grieving season.

I notice that when I try to ignore the grief, I find myself frustrated, eager for it all to be over. 

My presence falls flat and I grow irritable, judging the entire season as “performative” and the tension of that judgment radiates through my whole body. I can barely stand it.

I also feel really exhausted. I wake up feeling heavy, not having the energy to keep up with it all. Just a little bit resentful of those who can.

It goes on like this until I realize it’s only getting to me because I’m the one trying to perform. Forgetting my grief.

The irritability and heaviness are calling me home to what I’m missing. What's true for me.

Holiday season is a joyous season. I can feel the magic and wonder and sense of connection. I reach to enjoy it just like everyone else who celebrates. I love the lights and the kids opening their presents and even the eternal confusion about what makes a good stocking stuffer is a welcome part of the tradition.

It's a joyous season.

And, for me, it’s also a grieving season. How I treat the part of me that’s grieving matters. 

If a friend’s response to my grief was “cheer up. Be present, leave the past behind”, it’d backfire. 

Frankly I don’t find any cheer in having my grief dismissed, however well-meaning that dismissal might have been.

But if they said to me “it’s okay that you’re grieving. Some of us are, too. We’ve got room for that if you want to join.”

The irony is that I’m likely to cheer up and have an enjoyable time, knowing my grief is welcome to walk through that door, hand-in-hand with my joy.

I’ve learned (and relearn every few years) that I’m the first friend who gets a chance to respond to my grief. It’s my job, before anyone else’s, to notice, acknowledge, and welcome it in. 

To remember that it doesn’t desire to be forgotten this season. It doesn't accept neglect. It’s here. It exists. And grief’s one requirement is that it be honored.

Things get a lot harder when I forget that. But when I remember...

My grief doesn't try to run the show like we would assume it does. It sort of just cuddles up somewhere inside me, grateful to be along for the ride. All of that tension and irritability eases, the heaviness lifts, as I make space for it.

I move a little slower this season because I’m carrying something a little heavier. 

My enjoyment isn’t dampened this season so much as it’s not alone. 

My job is to make space for both. 

To laugh and to cry this season. To feel happiness and sadness this season. 

To be present and to remember, this season.

There's nothing wrong with that.

If anything it requires me to take an easeful approach to the season, and that's good for me.

Besides, my joy is in good company. Grief is its cousin. 

They’re both here as a reflection of love. 

If you've made it here, this is probably true for you, too.

Go ahead and let yourself feel both this season.

Honor the whole of you by having a holiday that feels true.

Rooting for You, 

Tori