Hurting During Holidays

I always post on the 15th and yet, here I am, palm to the forehead, realizing it's the 17th and the blog I have been working on, sits in the "drafts" without having been posted. When I started feeling badly for being late on the post, I immediately had to start giving myself grace. This last week has been crazier than normal. There has been so much stress in my life. All of which brings me back to grieving Matt. So it isn't like I haven't thought about him. In fact, it is the complete opposite. 

Last month I reflected on the hope in my heart. This month I feel the hurt. Being in the thick of the holidays makes missing Matt more painful. Especially while seeing the sights through the eyes of our kids. 

Olivia is loving the Christmas season. We've driven around our neighborhood countless times and looked at the same houses over and over again. Every time she sees a house with lights, she excitedly screams, "look!!" I drive slowly while she admires the lights, the big candy canes, and talks about Santa. She's at the age where the magic beams from her little body. She understands Christmas more this year. She is excited to have a birthday party for Jesus. And loved meeting Santa at the North Pole. We've talked so much about Christmas and I have seen the excitement build each day. 

Visiting the North Pole

Bundled up and ready for snow

Making a gingerbread house

This time last year I was over 6 months pregnant with Rylan. I did my best to make Christmas memorable for Olivia, myself, and our families. But it was so hard. I recently asked Val, Matt's mom, how she was feeling about the holidays. Like me, she responded "better." It's still hard. And we still miss him. But last year was so daunting. 

Every holiday and milestone, I try and incorporate Matt into the day. I try and make an extra effort to bring his personality into it. Part of it is for my own comfort. Wanting to feel his presence as much as possible. Part of it is so Rylan and Olivia are aware that Matt is always in our hearts. And a huge part of it is because I wish he was here. This holiday season has been challenging because I've been faced with many physical reminders that he isn't here. Last year, all my decorations remained boxed up at home. Living with my parents meant not buying or decorating my own tree. It meant not putting out Christmas decorations and hanging Matt's stocking. I knew this year would be hard as I pulled out the boxes of our decorations. And each item I held in my hands also held a bittersweet memory. Especially the ornaments we collected together over the years at the various places we visited. The ornaments that marked our engagement, wedding, first house, and pets. The ornaments signify memories. Memories are all I have left. 

Everyday that gets closer to Christmas gets harder and harder. I went and visited Matt yesterday. I go every week but this week was particularly difficult. It's so cold right now and the frigid wind feels like a physical reminder of how deeply the pain in my heart is. I pulled up at the cemetery and was happy to see that Matt is visited. There were ornaments in the tree by him, fresh (fake) flowers in the vase, his Seahawks flag, and the other items that are there year round. Last year Olivia and I bought a Santa and snowman yard stake for Matt. I brought them back yesterday and had to put them in the frozen ground.

Within the last few weeks, I've weaned completely off my antidepressant and anxiety medications. I've been asked how I knew I was ready to be off of them and I think there's a lot involved. But a huge contributing factor is all that I've learned in therapy. Let me emphasize that my medication was vital during this last year. I think about the early days after losing Matt and how low things got. But as time has gone on, I've felt less and less like myself and I knew the medication was part of that reasoning. Since being off of them, I FEEL again. Before being on them, I'd cry at a song, a sappy commercial, or laugh so hard that tears would stream down my face. The medication made me flat and often emotionless. I was still sad, still grieving. But the emotions didn't come and go as naturally as I was used to. It feels like I'm living again, not just surviving.

Being off these meds also means I have to be really careful of triggers. I have to be cautious of music I listen to, shows on TV, environments, and my thoughts. It's a lot more work guarding myself from panic attacks. When I was decorating our tree, I opened the box that held all our ornaments, I knew what was inside, and had to shut it and leave it for another day. Just seeing the box of memories made me cry. I knew that if tried to decorate the tree, I'd never stop crying. So, I waited a couple of days and did it after I mentally prepared myself for the difficult task. I think if I was still on my medication, I would have decorated the tree with pain in my heart but without emoting my feelings. 

The days and weeks ahead are going to be painful. I am going to push myself into new situations that I know will be difficult without Matt. Tonight, I am going to his cousin's wedding. The first wedding with his family since he's passed. I am going to start traditions with our kids that he should be part of. I am going to watch our daughter on Christmas morning as she sees that Santa has come to visit. We will attend all the holiday events and continue with our family traditions while missing Matt. Life doesn't stop. Grief doesn't stop. 

I heard this song last year around this time. It speaks perfectly to the experience of missing Matt during the holidays. I ache while trying to be strong.  
Different Kind of Christmas