Dear Friend,
If you are reading this while carrying grief, I want you to know how deeply I see you.
Christmas has a way of bringing everything closer to the surface. Even when we choose connection and plan to gather, grief can rise in quiet and unexpected moments. So many people tell me they feel they need to perform at this time of year, to hold it together, keep things steady, and make sure everyone else is comfortable.
Often, that performance happens in front of people who are grieving too. Or people who understand far more than we imagine.
I once heard someone say, “Emotions that we ignore go down into the basement and lift weights.” That line has stayed with me because it’s so true. What we push away does not disappear. It grows stronger quietly and tends to show up later, often when we least expect it.
If you can, give yourself some time alone before gatherings or events. Let yourself cry hard if you need to. Let the feelings move through you instead of holding them down. That honors how you feel. And often, when emotion has had a chance to be expressed, it creates more room for presence later.
And if you do fall apart, it doesn’t mean anything has gone wrong. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed or ruined the moment. It means something tender has been touched. You can pause. You can breathe. You can step away or stay exactly where you are. Moments pass, even the hard ones.
You do not need to perform your way through Christmas. You do not need to prove that you are coping well or doing grief the right way. Not being able to be authentically you is felt most deeply by you.
And if you feel that you do need to hold things together, or that it would help to name what’s happening, it’s okay to have that conversation. Saying something simple like, “This time of year is tender for me,” or “I may need a few quiet moments,” can ease the pressure. That isn’t weakness. That’s self-respect.
What matters most is not abandoning yourself in order to make the moment easier for everyone else. Authenticity doesn’t mean sharing everything or falling apart in public. It means staying honest with yourself about what you need and letting that guide you.
This Christmas, I hope you give yourself permission to be real. To feel what’s there. To step back when you need to. And to remember that love and grief often travel together.
There is no right way to do Christmas after loss. There is only the way that supports you, moment by moment.
With love,
