Hold on until December 22
I wish falling back didn’t affect me so much. But it does.
See, I grew up in Indiana, which was a bastion against Daylight Savings Time. Ten o’clock in April was the same 10:00 in October*. Since graduating from college, I’ve lived in four other states, each of which have forced me to “fall back” and “spring forward.” Where we live now in Kentucky, a person can leave work at 5:00, drive across an imaginary line and arrive home an hour later, at 5:00.
Y’all, we are only on Day 11 of this time change. We still have 38 days until December 21st, the shortest day of the year. Thirty-eight more days of increasing darkness. And, I don’t know how you’re doing, but I may be limping to December 22, when the darkness will start receding.
Yet, my struggle isn’t so much with whether Elizabethtown is on Eastern Time (it is), or whether we need to leave an hour early to catch a flight out of Nashville (I think so?).
My struggle is with the ever encroaching darkness that steals a little bit more of our light every day.
They’re not wrong…
Maybe it’s because I’m getting older (I didn’t say old. But my 30s are further behind me than I want to admit). Or maybe it’s because we lived so long in the northern tundra of South Dakota. But, I’ve found that as long as the sun is shining, I am happy going places, running errands, and generally keeping my minds, and body, occupied.
But then the sun sets, the darkness descends, and closing the front door to my home feels a little more final for the day. The evening walks or piddling around in the yard are cut short or don’t happen at all. As the evening chill sets in, time with others is cut short as we all just want to settle for the night. So, our evenings are spent finding things to do until when we can go to bed. And then we wake up the next day and start over again.
When we carry a loss, the darkness of the world around us can feel like an extension of the grief inside us. The quiet seems to be a little more quiet. We consider doing something, but the things we used to do with our person just don’t feel right to continue. Our budgets are tighter, so we can’t go out like we used to. We dare not say it out loud, but the upcoming holidays are coming faster than we want, and they are more than we can handle right now.
We catch yourselves sighing a little deeper because it’s the safest way to let out the grief.
So what can we do to stop the darkness from swallowing us? These are a couple of things I’m thinking about..
Go ahead and play that Christmas music, even if you’re a “not until the day after Thanksgiving” person like me. When we are living with grief, rules can absolutely be bent. If playing the music or putting up lights helps make the days a little less dark, then go for it. Last week, I put on Elvis’ Christmas album. (It was either that or my Irwin the Disco Duck record. I feel like the choice is obvious). My mom was a huge Elvis fan, and this year I need her a little closer.
Don’t play that Christmas music or put up the lights. If you simply cannot handle “the things” this year, then don’t do them. If it is not within you to go to the parties or dinners, don’t go. I promise you - people will understand more than you think. Setting traditions and activities aside for one year does not mean they will be gone forever. It just means they are too much right now. Trust yourself to know when you need to say “no.”
Take some time for self-care. My friend, you have been through a lot, and you still are. Do something nice for yourself today and remind yourself that you are not being selfish by doing so. Set aside social media, respond to the texts later, order takeout for supper. What is it that comforts you? Where, or how, do you find peace? What can help make the darkness a little less dark? Dwell there for a little bit and breathe again.
I have also created a resource called When Grief Invades the Holidays. This is a free three-part study that is available for both individuals and groups. Follow this link to find out more about the study and to request the first session. Of course, I am always available for workshops or connecting one-on-one. The holiday season is hard. Winter is hard. We have to walk through these days, but they do not have to overtake us.
As you walk your grief journey, I offer these words from John 1: 1-5. When I begin to feel overwhelmed by all that has happened, what is, and what I fear will be, it’s these words that give me hope and courage. My prayer is they will offer the same for you.
In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He existed in the beginning with God.
God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.
The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.
Hold yourself a little more gently in these days. We can’t make the darkness go away. And we can’t bring back our loved one, or undo the losses we are living with.
But hold tight to the fact that December 22nd is coming, and the light will return.
Peace,
Denise
*Indiana officially joined the rest of the country by “springing forward” in 2006. Although they like to keep things complicated by splitting between the central and eastern time zones.
