Painful memories

I’ve always been told the holidays are supposed to be beautiful.
Warm. Joyful. Magical.
The kind of season where you’re surrounded by people you love, where memories feel soft and comforting.

But for me — and for so many others — the holidays can feel like walking through a house full of ghosts.
Some memories sparkle. Others sting.
And some years, the heaviness sits so close to the surface that the lights and music feel like too much.

I don’t think people talk about that enough.
How the holidays can hurt.
How they can bring back memories you’ve worked so hard to move past.
How they can remind you of what you lost…
or who you lost…
or who you used to be before life changed you.

Sometimes it’s the quiet moments that get me the most.
The empty chair.
The traditions that don’t feel the same anymore.
The sound of laughter in other people’s homes when yours feels too quiet.

And then there are the expectations — the unspoken pressure to be “festive,” to smile, to act like everything’s okay.
But pretending takes energy.
And when you’re carrying grief, trauma, or old wounds, the performance can feel impossible.

There have been years when I’ve felt completely out of step with the world around me.
Like I’m watching everyone else celebrate through a window I can’t open.

If you feel that way too… I want you to know you’re not strange.
You’re not failing at the holidays.
You’re human, and you’re healing — and that’s messy sometimes.

If You're Struggling This Holiday Season:

I want to tell you something I wish someone had told me years ago:

There’s nothing wrong with you if the holidays feel painful.
You’re not breaking the spirit of the season — you’re just carrying a story that deserves tenderness.

You’re allowed to make this time gentler.
You’re allowed to protect your heart.
You’re allowed to create your own version of what the holidays look like.

And if it’s a season of grief, or healing, or quiet survival —
that’s okay.
There is courage in that too.

You.

Are.

Not.

Alone

Even if your holidays look different from everyone else’s, even if you're carrying memories that still ache — you are not alone in it.

There is strength in your softness.
There is resilience in your honesty.
There is hope in your ability to keep going, even when this time of year feels heavy.

You are still here.
You are still rising.
You are still unbroken.