I’m not excited about Christmas. I’m tired. And when anyone asks me how I’m doing I give them a brittle toothed “Fine, everything’s fine here. How are you?” I’ve come to realize, however, that I am not fine and I am not alone in this. That same friend also gave me permission to loosen my grip, to admit that I’m not okay, that I don’t know what I need right now, and I don’t know where any of this is taking me. That I’m scared. That I’m tired.
And I’m here to do the same for you: You officially have permission to not be okay right now and for as long as you need.
Each of us – most of us – has gone through or is going through something. Our hearts are broken. We’re grieving a life we thought we had or a childhood we should have had or a parent who never showed up for us or who chose alcohol or whatever else over us. We’ve suffered grievous wounds to our bodies or souls or both. Little, everyday things remind us of what happened, what’s gone, what should have been or what isn’t.
At this time of year, more than most, we are told we should celebrate, we should savor, gather, spend, deck the halls, be merry. But sometimes, when you are grieving, seeing the joy of others only provides poignant contrast to what we lack, have lost or never had. Even when we are in a good place, being surrounded, finally, by love can make us ache because it shows us what we deserved and missed all along. Or someone treating us as if we have worth feels alien because we don’t know what to do with it. We’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And so, we’re sad. And tired. And not sure we have energy to keep going. We try to put on a brave face. Try to be strong for our families and friends and shield them from how we are struggling. Next week we’ll rest. Next week we’ll do that thing for ourselves. For now, we just keep going.
But when we try to protect others from our sadness or grief, we rob them of an opportunity to serve us, and in so doing, get in touch with something that’s best in themselves.
But when we try to protect others from our sadness or grief, we rob them of an opportunity to serve us, and in so doing, get in touch with something that’s best in themselves.
I’m here to tell you: Don’t grieve alone. Don’t keep your suffering hidden. Don’t be ashamed to admit that you need help. Be brave enough to acknowledge that you don’t want to be by yourself. That you don’t know what you need right now. That you are sad, depressed and can’t find your socks, let alone change them. Ask for help. Reach out. Wave a tiny white flag. Let someone safe know that you’ve had enough.
I’m also here to tell you that everything you are feeling is normal. This time of year is a rough go. But. People in your life love you and want to be there for you. If you are feeling worthless, or at the end of your rope, know that there is someone right now who needs you to keep breathing. Someone you have not even met yet will need your words or kindness on some distant day. Keep going. If you need to sit down or lay down and catch your breath, do it.
Long before Christmas became the vast commercial and economic machine that it is today, it was about lighting a candle in the darkest, coldest days of the year and providing hope for brighter days ahead. It was a time to hunker down by the fire and rest, recover. Just be. Know that no feeling is forever. You will be okay. If you need help, have courage. Take a deep breath and ask for what you need.
