Expecting Christmas: Navigating the Highs and Lows of the Holidays Post-Divorce


My first Christmas as a divorced, single mother was an emotional one. I’d spent the last nearly-twenty years making memories with someone who was no longer there to make memories with. As the season approached, I made plans to fly to California on Christmas day and spend a week with my brother and his family; it would be my first Christmas without my kids.

Holidays in general can be tenuous. Add to that the emotional weight of broken or strained relationships, disappointments with how the year has gone, and overly high expectations of your capacity to “deck the hall with boughs of holly,” and it can be tough to find the fa-la-la. I can think, however, of a few ways I have coped through Christmas and other seasons in the years following my divorce when my expectations have needed adjusting. Here are a few tidbits to tuck away that I hope are helpful to you:

Expect Adjustments: A quick read of the Christmas story, and one might surmise that the birth of Jesus required adjusting some expectations. I can’t speak for Mary, but if I had been told that I would be giving birth to the Son of God, I would definitely have some ideas about how that was going to go down. I’d be thinking Jesus was more fit to be born on a bed of roses than a bed of hay, but it just wasn’t so. Instead, Jesus was born in a stable, the air rife with the smell of livestock, after being told there was no room in the inn. I would have had a first world meltdown.

Filtering this story through my own lens leads me to this conclusion: Christmas is a season in which we should expect adjustments. Things might not go according to plan. Approach it, expecting to make some adjustments to your perspective and attitude.

Each year, the relationships we have will include some new, some old, and some over. Instead of holding on to everything that had been just how it was and in the order I remembered it, I had to let go. I had to acknowledge outwardly (even say it to myself) that holidays, namely Christmas, were difficult. It was ok to admit that. I could expect to need some emotional space to adjust to the new reality. Christmas felt different, albeit sad and a little lonelier than I’d ever experienced it. I could expect some sadness and tears. I could also still expect some joy.

Make New Memories: My whole adult life had been spent with a person who was no longer my partner. I wondered which traditions to keep and which to let go of; making rum balls felt like a trigger, so I steered clear of that one. Instead, I threw a Christmas Open House and served homemade empanadas. I bought an artificial tree, instead of a live one, to ease the task of getting it home and decorated, and I purchased an Elf-On-the-Shelf whom my kids lovingly named Umpa. Although I may not have entirely realized it at the time, I was reclaiming Christmas in my own way. I needed to decide what and how to celebrate and with whom. I needed to make new memories.

The challenge of Christmas post-divorce is to simultaneously grieve and celebrate. You can’t change your memories, but you can make new ones. Make a new tradition: follow an Advent calendar, throw a party, or decorate your yard with a slew of inflatable snowmen. Whatever you do, make it your own and relish the joy of making some new memories.

Delay Big Decisions: If you’re fresh off of a divorce or grieving a significant loss, Christmas is going to take some push to get through. Acknowledge that it will be difficult, and give yourself plenty of room to get through it. This past Thanksgiving, I got remarried and am in a new stage of my healing process. I can promise you, it does get better.

Instead of making big life decisions, use that energy to thoughtfully consider what the best way for you to celebrate is going to be. Surround yourself with people who love and care about you, and give yourself permission to delay making significant life decisions.

If you’re recently divorced, your optimism has likely taken a hit, and your resources are stretched. As you think about the Christmas season and the year ahead, consider the kind of person you want to be, rather than what you want to do or accomplish. You and your children, if you have them, have to live with that person. Set goals that help you become the person you want to be given the circumstances you’re actually in, rather than the things you hope to have done by this time next year. Focus on things that feed your core needs–faith, values, and relationships.

You can come out stronger on the other end, but you have to bear the weight of enduring the ups and downs. Take care of yourself. Take one day at a time. Give yourself room to be both happy and sad. This is the heavy-lifting of the healing process that will bulk you up, making each year easier. In the meantime, fortify yourself with the things that bring beauty and joy to the season and remember, you are going to be ok.

Love and peace to you, my friend.

Finding Center: Four Questions to Ask Yourself When the “Worst” Happens


A few years ago, I was cruising along in life when, out of what felt like nowhere, everything changed. My perception of the life I’d lived was put into question as I faced the abrupt end to my marriage. Every plan and idea I had about the future was placed on hold as I grappled with the loss of my spouse and an an uncertain future. One of my favorite sayings is that hindsight is 20/20. I now understand and can accept things that at the time I fought against. I also can see that there was a lot I did, not always consciously, that laid the framework for healing and growth during an unexpected divorce which could have completely derailed me.

When we’re faced with traumatizing circumstances or an unexpected turn, it’s easy to react instead of respond. When we react, we often do so out of the heightened emotional state we’re in. We may say or do things we regret because we haven’t stopped to consider what our options are. Instead, I believe that our greatest strength in the midst of chaos is in the power to choose and to do so wisely. Let me add that wisdom is not always a ready resource when the worst happens. As I reflect on how I made it through that dark time in my life, much of what I  held on to was passed on to me by friends or counselors who themselves were not embroiled in my own unfolding saga. Their rootedness anchored me. Here are a few key questions that we all can ask when all may seem lost, a few of them inspired by some amazing people who walked beside me.

Who do I want to be?

In the middle of what felt like  impossible circumstances, I decided early on to see a therapist. She encouraged me to take good care of myself, saying, “your children will be well if you are well.” Whether it’s children or other important relationships, it’s true. All of them will suffer if you are not well yourself. I had to consider who I wanted to be and how I was going to handle the situation that I found myself in. At the time, I probably could not have articulated who I wanted to be, but I knew that I still wanted to enjoy life. I took my kids to the zoo, the park, the beach. In the face of deep internal agony, I still got out of bed. I cooked dinner. I went to the gym. Each and every ounce of self-care had a cumulative effect that kept me moving towards the next thing, even if it was just walking across the room. I wanted to be someone who could live well, even if my course was being dramatically altered.

I came to understand who I wanted to be by also recognizing who I wasn’t going to be. Whatever battles you choose to fight will be a withdrawal from your emotional reserves, so choose wisely. It’s important to also consider how you fight. A dear friend passed on some advice she’d been given during a difficult period in her own life. She said, “do no more harm; don’t add to your regrets; always take the high road.” The high road doesn’t always feel good. It means not necessarily getting in the last word. It means choosing grace over revenge. Taking the high road means saying and doing things that don’t keep you up at night rehashing old scenes and wishing you’d done things differently. It also means forgiving yourself when you blew it all together because, after all, choosing the high road is impossible to do perfectly.

What do I believe?

I am of the Christian variety. While there are many different tents in this camp, I am grateful to be in the it’s-ok-if-you-aren’t perfect one. I let God know I was angry. With the windows tightly rolled up, I screamed and let God have it. My marriage as I saw it had been untouchable; my expectations that I could preserve it at all cost were perhaps naïve. Even still, I was honest with God about how I felt about what was happening in my life. In the years since the hardest turns, I’ve often prayed simple, sometimes indiscernible prayers. “Set my feet on a firm path; show me the way. Help.”

Knowing what you believe, though, especially if you don’t profess a faith isn’t about finding a religion necessarily but, rather, about knowing what your internal order is. We each live by a set of values, internally held but externally lived out. What, where, how, and with whom you spend your time says a lot about what you think is important. Sometimes those things are helpful, especially during a time of hardship. If not, then it may be time to identify some values that offer a better way to deal with what you’re going through and ultimately put on the horizon a glimpse of the life you want to live in the future.

What can I control?

When I was going through my divorce, I felt like everything was being taken away. I could easily have fallen victim to my circumstances and, as I mentioned earlier, reacted from angst. Instead, I made a list of what I could control when everything else felt out of control. I could still try to make my kids laugh. I could still create beauty. I could spend time with friends. I could hold on to hope and believe there was something beautiful waiting on the other side of my painful situation.

I could control my attitude and each choice that I made. Sometimes I chose to drive 30 minutes just to play the piano in an empty chapel where my friend was a pastor. Other times I chose to make lasagna which seemed fancy when cooking for just me and two small children who would have been just as happy with hot dogs for the hundredth night in a row. Each choice was an investment in restoring my sense of empowerment, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant.

Who do I love? And who loves me back?

The trauma of my divorce left me vulnerable, foggy-headed, and facing a mountain of decisions that I was ill-prepared for. While some friends marveled at my strength, I now can say with confidence that I am still standing because of theirs. When the “worst” happens, draw close to the people who have a track record in your life; lean into them.

A friend I’ve known since the fifth grade spent hours with me on the other end of a telephone line, several states away on the first evening I was alone. Another sent a box of fruit and earrings, small tokens of love from the other side of the country. Friends cooked for me, painted with me, sipped wine with me and held me through the most difficult of days. When we’re faced with the worst and lean into the ones we love, we will know who loves us back because they are still there when the sun comes up again.