Broken Traditions: Coping with Spiritual Dissonance and Holiday Grief
Grief, Rituals, and the Messy Middle of Emotion
Most of us usually think of the holidays as being joyful… warm… comforting… and generally, “the most wonderful time of the year”.
But when you’re grieving – whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or anything else that has turned your world upside down – this time of year can feel anything but “merry and bright”.
So I want to tackle something that I don’t think gets said enough. It is okay if the holidays feel more gloomy than joyful… more woeful than warm… and more complicated than comforting.
Because when something hard is going on in your life they can be.
There can be a lot of emotional weight around holiday expectations and traditions. They can bring comfort – or they can be painful. And sometimes, when there is difficult stuff going on in our life, they just feel empty and hollow.
Whether it’s decorating the house, baking the cookies, attending a faith service, or hosting the family dinner - what used to bring you joy can feel like pressure... or guilt... or even resentment.
And if the things that you used to look forward to feel unbearable this year? That’s ok.
Because grief doesn’t stop on December 1st to make room for the holiday season.
Let’s take a little detour – because sometimes the emotions or confusion we can feel around this time of year aren’t so much about the traditions you are struggling with…
They stem from the conflicts that arise when our grief has challenged our spiritual beliefs or our connection to faith-based traditions.
There’s a term for that inner conflict – it’s spiritual dissonance - when something has shaken, or even destroyed, our core beliefs, or when we have lost our connection to a divine presence that once brought us comfort.
This can be particularly challenging when your traditions are rooted in those beliefs.
And the truth is that I don’t have an easy answer here – just an understanding of how real that struggle can be.
And permission to let yourself feel what you feel.
Without shame.
Without feeling like you have to perform a version of faith that no longer feels comfortable.
Learning how to cope… what to adapt… what to put on hold for awhile… and what to just get rid of… takes time.
The first year, I tried to do almost everything the same. We decorated, we baked, I even made the traditional Christmas morning cinnamon rolls. But after I put the turkey in the oven, I locked myself in the bedroom and cried. That day was a blur of trying… breaking… and surviving.
The second year, I just said we were skipping Christmas. We went to Mexico. It was beautiful.
And in spite of - yes – actually having a bit of fun, we were miserable.
Because no matter where you go, December 25th still shows up. And the person you’ve lost is still gone.
Eventually, with some trial and error along the way, I found a way that worked for me - creating something new that honoured our loss and respected our emotional bandwidth.
It wasn’t perfect – what is?
But it has made it possible to feel joy and gratitude again during the holidays.
Which brings us to…
Grief and joy. Sadness and gratitude. Laughter and tears.
This part can be so disorienting – especially in those early years - but it’s also completely normal.
Neuroscience tells us that grief activates the amygdala (which processes pain and threat), while joy, gratitude, and connection light up the prefrontal cortex. So yes - your brain can absolutely hold both. And it often does.
It might feel like your brain is broken when it happens. But it’s not. It’s just one more of the quiet miracles of being human.
And finally, I’d like to share a few gentle suggestions that might help you navigate the holiday season (or any time around a date that’s significant for you):
- Be honest about your capacity – with yourself and with others – and then set boundaries without guilt.
- Change the traditions if they don’t feel right this year.
- Build in breaks, escapes, and time alone if you need it.
- Honour your loved one in small ways that feel meaningful – whether that is comfortable for others or not. I like to say, “Go ahead and share what you’re planning ahead of time if you feel it might make them uncomfortable – but don’t let their discomfort steal your comfort.”
- Journal your way through the tension. Even after almost 20 years, I still find this helpful.
If you’re journaling along with my podcast, here are the reflection prompts I shared this week.
Take them with you on a walk… sit with them in contemplation… or journal them out.
- What’s something I wish I could skip this season — and what emotion comes up when I say that out loud?
- What tradition (big or small) do I want to keep — not for others, but because it brings something to me?
- In what ways am I feeling two things at the same time right now? (Grief and gratitude? Loneliness and love?)
- If I could write myself a permission slip for this holiday season, what would it say?
Remember – you don’t owe anyone a perfect holiday, and there is no “right” or “wrong” way to do the holidays when you’re grieving
There is only your way.
Whatever you need to do to survive this season - that’s enough. Truly.
And in the middle of it all, may you find tiny sparks of grace, or peace, or breath.
Even if they’re small. Even if they flicker.
You are not alone.
