The Holidays Can Break Your Heart and Heal It Too

A truthful reflection on grief, memory, change, and learning to let the holidays be what they are instead of what they used to be. 

It started in October. The dread began to build, and I found myself saying out loud that I wished we could fast-forward to January. After a couple of jolting years filled with massive, unexpected change, I thought I was in a good place.

Yet here I was wishing two months of my life would just disappear. What was I trying to avoid?

When the Holidays Feel Complicated

I know I am not the only one who feels this. For many of us, the holidays are complicated. Work demands pile up. Financial pressure builds. Family dynamics may test us. Grief sneaks in.

There is a push and pull with the holiday season. It can be both joyful and exhausting.

I feel it more now that life looks different. The kids have grown. Traditions have shifted. I feel the void left after the passing of my dad and stepfather.

And two decades of Christmas morning traditions vanished when my husband passed away two years ago.

I used to think the holidays were something we grew out of, like childhood wonder, but I see now the season doesn’t lose its magic. We simply experience it differently as we age. There is a bittersweet wisdom in realizing that part of growing older is holding both joy and loss in the same hand, sometimes at the same moment.

The world around me looks festive, but memories take me back. I think about the years when we left cookies out for Santa and I made the boys wait at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning until I was positioned with the camera. They rolled their eyes but played along.

They humored me last year but I think that may have been the last time for our ritual.

The Magic We Grew Up With

Then there are the memories from my childhood. Decorating cookies with my grandma, watching her make Christmas candy like it was the most ordinary thing in the world even though it felt like magic to me.

The whole house smelled like butter and sugar in December.

On Christmas Eve, football games played in the background, blending with the laughter and kitchen noise. We would crowd around the big family table with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, waiting for the dishes to be cleared so the sweet treats could finally come out.

And the gifts. That feeling of waiting and wondering what was wrapped just for you.

I had no idea those years were leaving an indelible mark in my mind.

Why the Season Hits So Hard

Looking back, the common thread is obvious. Family. Community. Being with people who matter.

And maybe that is why the ache feels stronger now.

In 2023, the Surgeon General named loneliness as a serious concern, and I understand why. The holidays can magnify every gap in our lives. They bring old memories to the surface, highlight the people we miss or the fractured relationships, and reveal the places where life has shifted.

His message felt human to me: connection is essential. We need it the way we need rest and safety.

And that feels especially tender during a season when togetherness is expected but not always felt.

I have also learned something about grief. It does not disappear. It changes shape. I do not expect it to disappear or pretend it is gone.

Some days the memories come bright and sharp. Other days they float in quietly. I’ve learned how to accept rather than fight them.

Sometimes it just takes a few minutes of sitting still, looking out the window, and taking a few deep breaths. Other times it takes music, a walk, writing, or sometimes a good night’s sleep seems to hit the reset button.

Grief has changed me by softening the edges in ways I never anticipated.

Letting the Season Be What It Is

The holidays are different now, and I am learning that different does not have to mean better or worse. It can simply mean new. New beginnings, new rhythms, and new traditions.

There is something healing in letting the season be exactly what it is, instead of wanting something from what it used to be.

I come back often to this idea: a circumstance only has the meaning we choose to give it.

Three people can look at the same experience and interpret it three different ways. That thought allows me to reframe how I move through this season.

Choosing Intention, Choosing Connection

This year I am trying something different. I am choosing intention over dread. I am letting the memories warm me instead of weigh me down.

I am making room for joy, however small or unexpected it may be. I am not pretending everything is cheerful, but I am also not closing myself off to the possibility of good moments.

I am thinking about connection in small ways. Sending a card. Checking in with someone I have not seen in a while. Saying yes to a conversation instead of rushing past it. Making space for someone who needs to be heard.

If your holidays feel complicated, you are not alone. If you feel the pull of old memories, you are not alone. If you want to disappear into January, you are not alone.

This season can hold many things at the same time. Joy and loss. Nostalgia and change. Gratitude and grief. There is room for all of it.

And if nothing else, maybe the most human thing we can do right now is reach toward each other. Connection may not fix everything, but it is a great place to begin.