You’re Allowed to Grieve During the Holidays

My ancestors shared their stories so that I could find the lessons in them. That is why sharing part of my life with you is so important. I am sharing pieces of my soul in the hope that you can learn not only what not to do, but also how to heal from the things that hurt you to your core—the things that leave you unsure of how to navigate parts of yourself.

The holidays are coming. So many people will tell you to be grateful you still have something to celebrate. You will read blogs and articles listing five ways to beat the holiday blues.

I am not going to tell you those things.

I want you to feel the feelings you are feeling. Sit in them. Be angry. Be hurt. Be okay with not being okay.

In my late twenties, I slowly stopped going to family gatherings. I am a Black woman in a bigger body, so people seemed to think it was okay to police what I put into it. I would get looks, and I could read their faces: She shouldn't be eating that.

I was tired of performing in a room full of people who I wanted to love me. In a big Black family, insults and talking about other people can become a kind of love language. But it is exhausting to be laughed at—and to feel like you must laugh at others, too.

So, I slowly started staying home.

But when you retreat, you can become alone.

I still think about some things. Would it be better to be alone? Or would it be easier to sit in places that do not make me feel comfortable, places where you are invisible but still seen?

I am still on my own for the holidays. I got a dog, Prince, and he is the love of my life. He has shown me what pure love can look like. There is something in this world to tether yourself to—something that lets you be your most vulnerable self.

A friend once told me that I have one day to sit in my stuff. One day to be depressed, lie in bed, eat junk food, and drink my heart out. Then, the next morning, wake up, give thanks, and push through. So, if you need to, during this time away from your family, feel it. Sit in it. Think about all that you are missing.

Grieve.

But the next day, wake up, give thanks, and push through.

I will be sitting with you. Think of my words as coming from a sister, an auntie, or a friend. Whatever you need, imagine me sitting next to you, holding your hand while we sit in our pain together.

We are stronger together. You are never alone. And you get to feel the pain of what you are feeling without guilt—without anyone making you feel bad for it.

If no one has told you lately, or even today, that you are loved, let me be the first:

I love you.

 By: Linsay Irene