It’s that time of year … againWe’ve talked about festivities a few times now, as this time of year can often feel like we must run the gauntlet of parties, family, friends and celebrations that we can often feel we’re sitting on the outside of. There are so many festivals at this time of the year, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Hanukkah, but the same feelings can come up at other times when we’re asked to put on our game faces, whether we really want to or not. That’s why we invited Karin on, a counsellor and coach, who I also write and deliver workshops with to provide practical solutions to many situations we come up against as childless people. I mean goodness knows we don’t have a manual to refer to and neither do the people in our lives. The conversation covered a lot of ground, but the thing I was struck by was how we had all come at it differently. It ranged from having to say yes to things when we want to say no, but then also the opposite - not putting yourself through things that you don’t want to do, because frankly you don’t have the inclination to do so. And this interested me, because I have in the past tried different approaches. Early doors in my grief, I said yes, when I really meant no. I put myself into situations that were intensely painful and masked my way through it, to then fall apart completely in the car afterwards. I then swung the other way, and used the approach of saying no to things, regardless of what they were. If they involved kids, or my pain then it was a non-negotiable no. Both approaches worked in their own ways, for sure, but they also meant I missed out on things, things that I look back on and feel some sadness about. Birthdays of my niece and nephew when they were younger. Family gatherings of people that are now no longer with us…it’s all rather sad to have missed out to be honest. But, in the moment I was asked, my pain absolutely had to come first. I had to be responsibly selfish for my own wellbeing. And the grief tends to dictate what we are able to do, because as my grief has waned now, I find that I’m more curious about things like Christmas. Certainly, I want to know what I can handle, but I also want to try new things and experiment a little. For example, this year I’m actually going to put the tree up, on my own because I still find it very bittersweet, especially when I see the bauble I hang for my son. I’ll play the tunes that are also layered with sadness because of the Christmases I had as a child and cannot now bequeath to my own child. I might even put on ‘A Muppets Christmas Carol’, which in my humble opinion is the best and only version worth watching (honestly, Gonzo and Rizzo’s narration is on point). And then on Christmas Day, I’ll be venturing out to the pub to try and see whether I can be open to what it’s like being around people. But the thing is this is such an individual journey that we must work out for ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we can’t understand and learn from others. Because I wonder whether that is part of the grief associated with festivities – the losses of Christmases past, the loss of Christmases present and those of the future. Those are real losses that might not be understood, but they are nevertheless very real, and only we can choose how we manage and cope with those as we work through the grief. For those that choose to celebrate this year, or even those that don’t, I wish you a peaceful and restful break. Sarah
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