The Holidays Can Be Hard - When Goals & Planning Feel Impossible
/“No, I think it is just as likely that this year, my marriage will fall apart, one of my children will get scabies and another will get sick and die of leukemia.”
I remember spitting those words out in late December, answering a well-meaning friend who asked me what I was hoping for in the coming year and if I really believed that God had good things in store for me.
I was limping along in my grief, wary of planning and dreams. It felt difficult enough to get to the end of a day and dreaming felt like a trap; end of year goals or New Year’s resolutions were the foolish, arrogant bluster of people who life hadn’t smacked up against reality…yet.
That was thirteen years ago. I’ve experienced a lot of healing, integration and counseling since that gaping, aching first year. But, this year, maybe you know someone living with a hurt that is still very new. Maybe that person is you.
Be gentle
If dreaming and goal setting feel difficult, be gentle with yourself. Grief, loss and transition pull much of our energy to just surviving the moment. It makes sense that long-term planning might be hard.
Start small
Set small goals for yourself, beginning with daily practices. For me, that was making sure I exercised or got outside daily. Meaningful movement brought me back into my body and my surroundings. I also did a lot of baking, enjoying the process of creating something that nourished me and my people.
If you are managing someone that is going through a season of grief and loss, lead them in setting discrete, actionable, weekly goals. This helps you to have regular check-ins (important during times of disruption) and can lead them into to a regular cadence of satisfaction as goals are met.
Practice gratitude/celebrate small wins
Gratitude is a game changer that partners well with “start small”. Here are a few of mine from the last few days: a delicious new apple-maple vinaigrette that really elevated the Christmas Day salad, the pounding winter waters of Lake Superior made me grateful for a cozy house. I loved laughing over old stories and taking my children to the aquarium. I am grateful for more food that I can eat and a country where I’m not worried about bombs falling on my head. I am grateful for the feel of my favorite mug in my hands while sipping a strong cup of coffee.
Gratitude doesn’t mean that you forget or just gloss over the hard things. It doesn’t change the divorce or the death or the diagnosis.
About a year after Mercy died, my sister got married. It was a wonderful, late summer wedding with the reception in our back yard. I stood barefoot in the grass, eating naan bread with a big smile. The pain of the months previous made the beauty of the day more pronounced. I knew what it was to live through brutal days…which made me especially grateful for days of laughter and light.
Gratitude isn’t something to demand from others: “well, why aren’t you thankful for all that you do have?” Rather, it is a practice that all of us, whether we are going through a disruptive life event or in a season of flourishing, can cultivate. And the more we live grateful lives, the more we create cultures of both gratitude and celebration.