“It’s the most wonderful time of the year……”
And for so many it truly is – for 39 years of my life, it was for me too. But when someone significant in your life dies, often the magic of Christmas dies with them. Like the lights went out. And suddenly it’s no longer the “most wonderful time of the year,” it can feel like the worst. Trying to imagine ever being happy again can seem impossible – an unbearable weight to carry underneath the pressure of everyone else’s twinkling lights and laughter.
Christmas is a time of peace, hope, gratitude, and joy – and there is an expectation in our society that we act accordingly. No one wants to be labelled a Grinch or God forbid Mr Scrooge – so, we are often left battling with our real feelings of sadness, anger, and despair, pushing them down with every mouthful of turkey or drowning them in copious amounts of wine so as not to cause discomfort for those around us. It can be thoroughly exhausting.
My first Christmas without my little brother – Christmas 2019 – was by far the hardest. I don’t remember a great deal about it. I went through the motions, but it felt like wading through treacle. I just wanted to sleep through it – but I pushed on, like the warrior that I am (insert sarcastic tone) and had my Mum and Dad over for Christmas Day, when what I really should’ve done was (as my Mum would say) “leapfrog it” and avoid forcing something that only made everyone feel worse.
But why was it so hard? I mean, we had only spent one Christmas together for at least the previous ten years before he died – so what was it that was causing me such angst? And then it hit me – all of the best Christmas memories I had were from our childhood together. Those years of innocence, long before life became complicated.
Being the youngest, Syd and I would spend a lot of time together on the run up to Christmas – memories of dancing around the coffee table, laden with chocolates, crisps, and dry roasted peanuts as we sang our hearts out to Shakin Stevens “Merry Christmas everyone” still swirl around my mind every year. With the Christmas table set, the log fires burning and the excitement of Dad finishing work for the holidays, I can remember clearly that all that mattered in those moments was the love we all had for each other – and that’s what I remember the most – that was the magic of Christmas – very rarely the presents.
Those first eighteen years of my life we spent Christmas together every single year. All six of us – Mum, Dad, Ben, Dylan, Syd, and me. Then suddenly, during that Christmas of 2019, the realisation of six becoming five felt unbearable. The sights, sounds and smells of Christmas poured through a gaping hole in my heart leaving me breathless. The pain of recalling the last Christmas we shared together – the films we would never watch together again, the hours of reminiscing about years gone by and the laughter – God, I miss his laugh.
Today, four years on, I am slowly learning how to take care of myself during this time of the year. I am speaking up to those around me who I trust – crying when I need to – laughing without guilt and stepping in and out of days I want to take part in and those that I don’t. I now know it’s OK to let it go and let myself be. Sharing my experiences with others who may be feeling the same also reminds me that I am not alone. This has been lifesaving for me.
Here are a few practical tips that may help you or someone you know to get through this difficult time of the year:
Be gentle and honest with yourself.
Take the pressure off wherever possible. Don’t get caught up in the Christmas rush – you don’t have to take part in the extreme sport that is Christmas shopping on the high street. It’s OK to say NO! It can be difficult not to get hooked into the madness, I know, but anything that raises your cortisol levels, especially at this time of the year, is only going to make you feel worse. It’s ok to go slow and do things in your own time. Remember – you are the captain of your ship.
Make plans.
Often following the death of a loved one, and particularly if you suffered a traumatic or complex bereavement as I did, overwhelm and panic become a constant companion. To avoid this, I have found making plans in advance has significantly reduced my anxiety. It’s important to make plans with people that you are comfortable with, doing activities YOU want to do, not trying to please everyone else. This could be a trip to the theatre for a festive show, a Christmas lunch with good friends, a day trip with your bestie, or a day at home in front of the fire with a good book. I have found keeping it small but meaningful has been the key.
Reduce your alcohol intake.
This is a tough one – especially at Christmastime. Everywhere you look you are being sold the idea that drinking alcohol will make everything better when the reality is it’s a depressant. It tricks your brain into believing that feeling good after one or two drinks means that drinking ten must make you feel even better – but we all know rationally that that isn’t so. Enjoying a glass or two of your favourite tipple can be (for some) a real treat – but if you feel your relationship with alcohol is out of balance then it’s best to reduce your consumption over the festive period or take a break altogether.
Speak up and listen.
Nobody wants to drag the mood down, especially at Christmas – and that’s why it’s so important to listen to anyone that is struggling with grief at this time of year. People who are grieving do not want to be a burden, they fear being judged and do not want to pass their sadness on like some kind of contagious illness. We all have an opportunity to gift another person with the permission to talk about their loved one and their grief without judgement. Just to listen and witness their grief. Believe me – they will never forget it and it could save them in their darkest moments. You do not need to offer a solution or try to make them feel better – just sit and hold safe space for them. If you are the one grieving, then I would encourage you to confide in a trusted friend or family member. It’s good to talk.
Start a new tradition in honour of your loved one.
Starting a new tradition during the festive period can break the cycle of being triggered by the old ones. Designing a new life in the wake of a significant loss is tough – but this is an opportunity to get rid of some traditions from the past that you don’t enjoy anymore and introduce some new ones. Creating new traditions can help us to acknowledge that it is possible to move forward and celebrate our loved one in new ways – and who knows, you may have fun in the process.
Get outside.
Get outside. Just that. It doesn’t matter if it’s for ten minutes or ten hours, just do it consistently. This is especially important around the holidays as it helps to keep our nervous system calm when emotions are high. A brisk walk on a cold and frosty morning can be invigorating and getting outside is a great way of reminding yourself that the world will keep spinning and the sun will keep rising, giving you greater perspective. There are countless pieces of evidence to support how good being outside is for improving our overall mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing.
Help someone else.
Often when we get all up in our heads and repetitive thoughts are racing through our minds, a wonderful way to take the focus away from that noise is to help someone else. Being of service to others I believe is one of the core reasons we exist on the planet. Community helps us to feel connected to the whole. Reminding ourselves and others that we are all one. This doesn’t have to be a grand gesture – it could just be helping out a neighbour, checking in with a friend to see if they are OK, or helping out at a local community event. I find when I am helping others, all of my problems seem to disappear in that moment.
If you are struggling and need more support, there are many grief charities that can help. Here are a few links:
Helpline – Cruse Bereavement Support
Samaritans | Every life lost to suicide is a tragedy | Here to listen
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