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5 Coping Strategies for Surviving Holiday Grief
Coping strategies for mourning during society’s traditionally “festive” occasions
There’s nothing quite as soul-sucking as the gaping hole left by a loved one’s death, especially the first year during any holiday of social import. This includes holidays traditionally considered to be “festive” occasions, like Christmas, and “happy” occasions, like weddings and birthdays and baptisms.
Death never comes at a convenient time. My dad died a few days before my birthday, and the echoes of grief around that specific date lasted for a number of years. I felt like I was wandering around my inner emotional drylands, trying not to fall into the dark pit of death but not quite finding any place comfortable to touch down. So, I kept wandering. And aching. This “place-less” sensation can be heightened during any gathering — holiday or otherwise — that usually assumes people to be light and happy, warm and cozy: Christmas, birthdays, Hanukkah, marriages, receptions, anniversaries, baptisms, etc.
It’s OK to fall into the grief pit, even on a holiday. Fling yourself bravely straight into that cavernous hole that threatens you with no underpinning. Yes, it’s a free fall, but your Higher Power is waiting at the bottom to catch you. You won’t get lost in it; I promise you’ll come out . . . eventually. Just remain present in that dark hole long enough for your body to tell you what it needs.
You might need to weep or sob and wail, beat the stuffing out of a pillow, bake comfort food, sit on the couch mindlessly eating ice cream, consuming a never-ending stream of sitcom episodes, journal, or take a warm bath. Anything is OK as long as you don’t hurt yourself or another person.
Once, when I was in weekly therapy to grieve my lost childhood, I told my therapist I felt like I wasn’t “working hard enough” to get through my grief (as if there were such a thing). She said it was OK and that I was processing my thoughts and emotions while I was watching old Brady Bunch episodes. Now I think of that when I pace other wormholes of grief by doing something completely mindless and unrelated, like balancing my checkbook or organizing my closet.
