Holiday stages

*I wrote this original post in December 2009.  I find that as we move into the winter holidays, practically everyone that I speak with wrestles with some form of sadness. I thought it would be appropriate to revisit this post, as it helped many people when it was first published.*

From the title of this blog post, you may be expecting a happy story about a Christmas event or pageant, children on stage singing or dancing.  Instead, what you'll be reading about is dealing with grief during the holiday season.

It is a proven fact that around religious holidays, be it Christmas,  Hanukkah, Easter, etc., there is an increase in mortality rates.  The concept of mortality rates can be traced as far back into history as Babylonian times and the rule of King Hammurabi.  In our modern times, this translates into insurance companies creating their mortality charts.  As this became standard practice, there became occasional note in media that death rates increase around significant religious holidays.

Think for a moment, and doubtless, either you or someone you know has lost a beloved family member or friend around a religious holiday.  I fall into this category, having lost the person I consider to be my strongest father figure.  He was my Uncle, my Mom's eldest brother, the patriarch of our clan.  Several years ago, he passed from this life on Christmas Eve morning after a lengthy, brave battle with debilitating illness.  As the Christmas holidays draw near, I find, despite my best intentions, there are definitely moments of melancholy that visit my heart.  Small wonder that if I feel these moments, the rest of the world might be visited by similar feelings in relation to their own personal losses.

There are many schools of thought about reasons that so many souls choose a religious holiday as the time to release from their physical body and pass from this reality.  My own thoughts on this topic are very personal, with one of the thoughts being that our Souls recognize an increased energy around high holy days.  I have always thought that this increased energy might facilitate an individual in making the choice to release from their physical body.  The reasons are myriad, the theories about this are endless, and at the end of the day, they probably don't matter beyond the ability to comfort us in the midst of painful, sad moments.

I have no mysterious remedy for this, other than to give it voice.  We are all very accustomed to slapping on that bright, cheerful social mask to cover our roiling emotions.  It's the holiday season (or whatever other particular moment in life where sad memories surface), be happy, upbeat and positive!!!  Don't be sad about the loss of a loved one, for fear you might drag everyone else down around you!!  Right?!  We all feel obligated to project that facade so that we don't make others uncomfortable or sad right along with us.  It is obvious that this tendency to stuff down our emotions around significant holidays and/or anniversaries of losing a loved one makes dealing with these significant dates that much more challenging.  When, and why did we as a collective society decide that it makes more sense to paste a happy smile on our faces than to honor our true emotions? 

Strong emotions, especially those connected to loss, do make most people uncomfortable.  It hits too closely to home for everyone; if you're mourning the death of a loved one and you present those emotions outwardly, that in turn can trigger buried emotions in others.  It's just a human response, this triggering of fears and resistance, and the need to cover everything up with a neat, tidy, happy facade.  Another truth is that most of us don't deal with significant loss immediately and instantly. 

Most of us are familiar with the five stages of grief.  They are as follows:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Each person and each situation, each loss, is different regarding the manner in which these stages are processed.  For some, although I would think this is rare, the five stages are processed quickly and dealt with in a short amount of linear time.  For others, the process can take much longer, sometimes years.  Another point to make is that even after we have navigated our way through those stages, they can boomerang on us and creep back in unexpectedly, years later.  Anniversaries of loss are strong triggers.  What has always frustrated me is the medical mindset that after making our way through those five stages once, then it is all said and done, all bound up in an orderly bundle, case closed and door shut permanently.  I strongly disagree with that mindset.

Christmas, Hanukkah and the New Year, altogether, present a time when family and friendship is our focus, so of course sadness will lurk beneath the surface as we have wistful moments, missing those no longer here with us physically.  It is, therefore, not surprising that we'll sometimes feel sucker punched with sad moments.
 
Dealing with sad anniversaries is never easy.  What works for me might not work for you, but I can share my own process.  When I begin to feel those sad moments creeping in, the most important step that I take is to recognize it for what it is.  Life can be so hectic around the Christmas season that we don't pay enough attention to how we're honestly feeling.  We'll rush from one obligation and social function to the next, pushing the sad, bad, confused or angry emotions down until they finally expand and explode.  So, for my own mental and emotional health, I find it of paramount importance to stop and identify what I'm feeling.  It doesn't always come readily to mind for me either, because of course it's much easier to deny sadness and instead label it as being tired or grumpy or something much easier to ignore.

What I have learned over the years is that embracing the seemingly negative emotions does not equal failure of any type on a personal level.  The true failure, I feel, comes from denying what we feel and never allowing it to have enough of a voice for it to be processed.  So, I take time to look inward.  It isn't always pleasant, or easy, and rarely is it enjoyable.  It is, above all, vitally important.  I feel that in a way, it is a moment of Grace and tribute, when I stop, identify the reason for those melancholy moments and let myself feel what comes from within.  Grace, because I am honoring myself when I allow myself to grieve.  Tribute, because in recognizing these feelings, it gives me a moment to remember the person I loved deeply.  When I do open up to myself, the memories that I embrace are inexorably entwined with all the reasons I loved that person.  So, yes, sadness will be felt.  Many times the result is tears. Eventually, though, happier memories will also flood my mind and in a different manner, I will go through those five stages of grief all over again before coming to that moment of acceptance.

The inescapable truth is that when we lose someone we love, it is a life sentence.  We spend the rest of our lives learning how to cope, manage our lives and live without that person's physical presence.  That's the challenging part.  Just when we think we're doing really well, a holiday or anniversary will approach and cut us off at the knees.  Psychologists developed the five stages of grief to identify what we are feeling and where we are in relation to dealing with personal loss.  From that perspective, the concept is valid, but I honestly feel that it doesn't come to a definitive, full stop, ever.  I am not saying that we exist in sharp, raw grief permanently, nor would I suggest such a thing is healthy or prudent.  What I am trying to point out is that we do experience layers of grief, sadness and loss in sometimes unexpected ways at different times, for various reasons. As a result, we experience a micro-moment, often repeatedly, of those five stages.

In light of this, I think that kindness would be the word of the day. If you can step back from everything else that requires your attention and focus your attention on You, compassion and understanding are what you deserve when you are confronted with those unexpected holiday triggers, layers and stages of sadness.  You deserve kindness, and a few quiet moments to look clearly at what you are feeling.  Give it voice, allow yourself to feel, to remember, to cry; perhaps smile or laugh.  Then, when you feel ready, you will be able to gently tuck the memories back into a corner of your heart and mind that will allow you to move forward with strength, rather than sapping you of energy and enjoyment of the holiday season.  Remind yourself that these feelings will surface again, and recognize that this time, by embracing the moment with Grace and acceptance, you will possibly be able to achieve a more solid balance.

Talking about it with family or friends might be an integral part of this process; there are no hard and fast rules here.  Do what works best and feels right for you.  In talking with others, you may be surprised to find that you've opened the door up for them as well, to do some processing, sharing and healing of their own.

In closing, I wrestled with myself about posting this blog.  It is a highly personal and volatile subject, and perhaps not one many will want to contemplate in the midst of the holiday season. I was feeling sadness as the calendar approaches a personal anniversary date of loss, and for me, writing out the emotions and giving them voice was helpful and healing. I have no idea if what I have written and shared will be of a helpful nature to others, but I am going ahead with posting it.  Perhaps these words and thoughts will resonate with others out there and bring a moment of clarity and peace to their hearts as they realize they are not alone with what they are feeling.  Maybe the simple suggestion that yes, you will go through repeated, myriad experiences of those five stages will be a moment of epiphany for someone out there, allowing them to embrace kindness towards themselves as they process through that most current incarnation. 

If you have stayed with me through to the culmination of this particular post, whether it clicked with you on a personal level or not, you have my appreciation for spending time with me as I navigated through my own five holiday stages.  As a result, my heart is lighter and I have been able to move forward with a gladdened spirit to enjoy my Christmas.  Blessings to you all, this year, this holiday season.

Artistic hands

The holidays are upon us, and they bring to mind memories of childhood. I am aware that I write about my family a great deal. I guess this is natural, as they gave me my firm foundation in life. As children, we were fortunate to live next door to my maternal grandparents. My Grandfather was a farmer who raised tobacco in East Tennessee. He had a barn and an old smokehouse where for much of my childhood, he continued the old ways of doing things. His mother and sister, my Great-Grandmother and Great Aunt, raised flowers to sell downtown on Market Square Mall and that was the reason they all were so talented at making things with their hands. The winter months had to be supplemented with sales of something, and that something was holiday decorations, wreaths and dried flowers.

When the holidays approached, sometime after the first few frosts had hit, it was time to make Christmas wreaths. My Grandpa was a master at this. He would go into the woods to cut grapevines for the base of the wreaths, evergreens such as hemlock (although they called it cedar), boxwood and pine branches, holly leaves and berries, and gather pinecones for various decorations. Mistletoe would be shot out of the tops of trees after all the winds had stripped the branches bare. This was always an opportunity for small grandchildren to tag along and chatter his head off as he gathered everything into big burlap bags.

Bags and bags of greenery would be carried back to the barn, set out on tables and the work would begin. Grapevines would be cut and wound into circles for the base of the wreaths. Strong baling twine would be used to secure everything to the grapevine bases. My task, because my hands were too small to pull the twine tightly enough, was to pull small swatches of evergreens from the branches and hand them to my Grandpa as he built the wreaths.

He would have buckets of water set out that he would pour metalic paint - gold, silver, bronze - onto the surface. Pinecones would be tied to twigs with string and dipped down into the water, emerging gilded by the metallic paint, then hung over a handy nail on the wall of the barn to dry. The same would be done at times with twigs of holly leaves and berries, wild grass seed pods and pine cones. I always loved that particular part of the whole process, watching the dark brown pine cones disappear into the water and come out shiny silver or gold.

The quiet gloom of the barn was peaceful and frosty cold in the early winter days. My brother and sister usually grew bored with the wreath making process in a short period of time, and would escape to play in the fields. I tended to stay there for hours on end, just sitting quietly, watching as the wreaths grew from such simple, humble beginnings into full, glossy, fragrant works of art. Chatter was not encouraged too much once we got back to the barn, but from what I remember, my Grandpa did enjoy the small jewels of wisdom that would come from my child's mind when I was "helping" him make those wreaths.

To this day, I can close my eyes and picture the ground floor of the barn and those work tables full of winter greenery. My Grandpa's hands were huge to my little girl's eyes and strong and tough enough to handle the prickly evergreens and holly branches with a deftness that to this day amazes me. He would work quickly, pulling that tough twine tight to bind the greenery to the grapevine hoops, scattering the decorative pinecones and berries in random patterns. Sometimes he would create something on a whim, such as a wreath made entirely out of straw. His eye for proportion and texture would serve him well as an artist today, I am sure.

For me, as a small child, what mattered most was getting the chance to just be with him and experience this important part of the holidays. The earthy scents of the barn would be spiked with the sharp, clear, tangy tones of the evergreen clippings. The chemical smell of the metallic paints would also punctuate the air. Yet above all of this was the absolute stillness of being out in the country on a winter morning. The winds whispering through the open barn doors, birds singing, squirrels chattering in the trees, the sounds of distant trains, and the occasional conversation shared between a three year old little girl and a Grandpa in his work overalls, who to that little girl, could work magic with his hands.

Years later, my Mom and I tried our hand at making some Christmas wreaths and I was astonished at how challenging a task it truly is. Our results were pretty, but tended to shed some greenery here and there where we failed to pull the twine tightly enough.

It is an art that is becoming fully mechanized these days, the making of wreaths. I find that to be a bit of a shame. There were occasional years when lots of family would visit around Christmas and we would all sit around and make wreaths; this was always a wonderful thing, full of the typical laughter that occurs when family comes together. The fact is, making holiday wreaths isn't for the faint of heart - it requires dexterity, long hours of labor, strong hands and an exacting eye for placement of greenery. I can understand why they are now being mass produced. While the ones I've made would never stand up to my Grandfather's critique, I do retain the knowledge of what I consider to be a noble art.

When I do attempt to make wreaths on my own, it is always with the memories of watching my Grandpa flowing through my mind, reminding me of simpler times spent in the barn, watching a true artist at work. He would scoff at being called such a title, but this is what I see as a strong truth. I think he enjoyed in a very deep manner the beauty he produced and the enjoyment his wreaths gave to so many. He would have called himself a simple farmer, and he was that very thing. My mind also saw him as a man with artistic hands, capable of producing beautiful works of art each holiday season.