Holiday Boundaries

One of the secondary losses after the death of your child is the impact of grief on holidays and celebrations that used to be sources of joy.  Our culture, our families, and even we ourselves impose expectations that may not be possible for us to meet in grief. There can be so much tension and additional sadness when a season that is “supposed to be” one way is … not. 

Grief is heavier during the holidays. All the sights and sounds that are designed to help us connect more easily with our memory and emotion do their jobs really well, but when we are grieving, this amplifies what is missing.  The rituals of the holiday season bring an acute ache to the loss we carry. The nostalgia of holidays past and the fear for holidays that will never be the same bring additional heartache and suffering. 

In addition, there are many opportunities or even expectations to socialize that can be fraught with anxiety for a grieving parent.  It is harder to avoid interactions with family and friends who may or may be able to receive us in our grief just as we are.  Most people who have not lost a child do not have the capacity to comprehend the extraordinary suffering we carry.  They have ideas, well-meaning or not, of what we need and what we should or should not do to make ourselves “feel better”.  There can also be a subtle (or not so subtle) implication that our expressions of grief are a burden to those around us.  

Understanding Boundaries 

One solution to these hurtful hardships is to set healthy holiday boundaries in grief.  Boundaries are a relational concept that many people misunderstand. Some people view boundaries as selfish or controlling, but in fact, boundaries are clarity and kindness. In a relationship without healthy boundaries, one or both parties often feel overshadowed or undermined by the other. The relationship can feel stressful, anxiety-inducing or even toxic because we don’t feel free to express our feelings or we don’t feel confident that the other person is interested or available to receive us.  We may feel compelled to hide or change our feelings or needs to appease the other person. 

In reality, boundaries are not meant to change anyone else.  A healthy boundary communicates my needs and actions to other people.  When I set a boundary, I am clarifying for myself and others what I am willing to do and not do. I communicate with kindness my capacity to be present or engage in a particular activity and the parameters I need to put around it. 

  • I would love to come to your gathering, but I am only able to stay for an hour. 

  • I am only choosing holiday events where I know my grief is welcome. 

  • My wife and I need time alone with our grief on Christmas Day and won’t be able to attend your brunch this year. 

Create Holiday Boundaries 

Implementing healthy boundaries with yourself and others can be uncomfortable at first.  You may be disrupting the “status quo” and others may not like it.  If your family is not used to clearly expressing their feelings, some may even think you are being unkind, but it brings honor to yourself, your grief, and to others to be honest about your feelings, your needs, and your limits.  You are only responsible for communicating boundaries with kindness and clarity.  You are not responsible for how others feel about them. 

Families and holidays don’t need grief in order to be stressful. An extended to-do list, pressure to follow traditions, and family dynamics bring their own stress and anxiety.  But when we are grieving, our body, mind, and spirit are already carrying a tremendous load.  We may come into the holiday season fragile at best and already depleted at worst.  Surviving this year may have taken all we had to give. 

Sometimes grief makes us feel like we owe something to others, that somehow we have already been so “needy” that we can’t ask for more support during the holidays. Remember, when you set healthy boundaries, you are not asking anyone else to change.  You are only deciding what you will or will not do, what you can or cannot accept. 

For example, one healthy boundary could be accepting that I am not responsible for other people’s emotions.  Then, I don’t have to be afraid of disappointing others.  I don’t have to manage their feelings.  I don’t have to worry about how they feel about my grief. 

Different Kinds of Boundaries 

How you set boundaries may depend on where you are in your grief journey, but here are some suggestions to consider: 

Time boundaries: I choose how long I am able to participate in a certain activity or event. “I would love to come to dinner, but I will need to leave after dessert.”

Sensory boundaries: I choose where I am willing to go based on noise, crowds, and over-stimulating or chaotic environments. “Thank you so much for the invitation, but I can't manage large gatherings this year.”

Emotional boundaries:  I choose what conversations I will have. I can plan ahead how I might respond to certain situations, questions, or comments. Remember, anyone else’s discomfort or disappointment with your needs is not your problem. Practice saying,  “I am not comfortable talking about that right now.” or “This is what we have decided works best for us. I hope you can respect that.” 

Tradition boundaries:  I can choose what traditions I am able to participate in this year. Just because you’ve “always done it this way” doesn’t mean you have to do it this year. It also doesn’t mean you won’t ever do it again. Give yourself permission to skip traditions if they will only deplete you.  If a tradition is exhausting but also brings you joy, you may consider still doing it. 

Guard Your Heart 

When thinking through what boundaries you need, try and get on the same page with your spouse. Try and make decisions about what will and will not work ahead of time and communicate those clearly to friends and family. You can always change your mind if you are able to give more or stay longer. 

It may be helpful to reflect on your “non-negotiables” to protect your heart. Talk to your spouse ahead of time about a word or gesture that means “I am out of here”. Or if one of you walks out, agree that the other gathers your belongings and joins you. No explanation needed.  In the first few years of grief, I remember that I was fine until I wasn’t.  And when I wasn’t, I was immediately not fine.  There was very little space between those two capacities. My husband and I both learned that we needed to radically accept the possibility of this sudden change in one of both of us without judgement.  

Finally, pray and reflect on what rituals of remembrance you want to create or protect. This is your chance to be proactive and make time and space to do whatever you can to bring peace and comfort to your heart while you are grieving your child at the holidays — and then create a boundary to protect that ritual.  For the first few years, I carried my son’s baby blanket with me everywhere I went. Perhaps you need to carry something of your child’s or play a certain song at the end of every day to connect with your child. Perhaps you can light an extra candle during Advent or create a small holiday memorial for your child. Whatever we can do to strengthen our enduring connection with our child is worth doing. No one else needs to understand it and no explanations are needed. 

One final boundary is to be kind and gentle with yourself.  You are not the same person you were last year and you are not yet the person you will be next year.  Do whatever you can to accept your grief, your heart, and your needs just as you are, without judgement.  You are enduring the worst possible grief and you have permission to grieve just as you are. 

Be assured of our prayers for you this holiday season.  We are here with you and for you. 

This blog is a companion to podcast Episode #44: Healthy Holiday Boundaries in Grief.  Deepen the conversation by joining us at It’s Not for Nothing! 

Elizabeth Leon

Elizabeth Leon is the Director of Family Support for Red Bird Ministries. She and her husband Ralph are from Ashburn, Virginia and have ten children between them - five of hers, four of his, and their son, John Paul Raphael who died on January 5, 2018. His short and shining life was a sacred experience that transformed her heart and left a message of love for the world: let yourself be loved. She writes about finding the Lord in the darkness of grief in her book Let Yourself Be Loved: Big Lessons from a Little Life, available wherever books are sold. Read more from Elizabeth at www.letyourselfbeloved.com.

Next
Next

Twenty Years of Love