Christmas might be hard.
My advice?
Breathe.
So much of what we need to do to help ourselves starts right there. From panic attacks to physical pain to inconsolable sadness, focusing on breathing in that moment is a good first step.
Maybe your emotional distress stops you in your tracks when you’re just trying to function, trying to get through your day. You’re trying to find some focal point, some way to steer yourself in some direction, any direction but where you are.
Breathe. Make that your one job in the moment. You probably can’t tell your tears to halt, can’t quiet the pounding heartbeat in your ears. Maybe the inner critic is marching tirelessly across your heart and mind, and you can’t even explain to those around you why you can’t, just can’t.
So breathe. It’s one little push, one little toehold from which you can move from this moment into the next. Keep breathing, and at some point the moment comes in which the distress mercifully loosens its grip, even if only a little.
You probably didn’t expect Christmas to be quite like this. We didn’t.
The ideal in your head, dating back for as long as you can remember, has changed.
Breathe. If the best you can do is be among peers who understand even as you can’t muster the will to speak, breathe.
You have a virtual seat awaiting you among people who understand. If you’re like me you don’t have answers, what you do have is understanding. Among those faces will be other people with hearts and minds, people who may not be able to connect with their children, but they can connect with friends and peers who understand. There simply is no substitute for being among people who truly understand.
