Dec '25 • General discussion
When the Holidays Hurt
Nobody warns you that the holidays turn grief into a physical weight.
The air feels heavier.
The silence is louder.
Holidays don’t sparkle for everyone.
For some of us, they press down on the chest.
Grief gets a body.
It sits in your lungs.
It pulls your shoulders forward.
The air feels thick.
The quiet screams.
To the ones missing a parent.
A sibling.
The person who raised you when they didn’t have to.
The person who was the holiday.
I see you replaying the last voicemail.
The last laugh.
The last time you didn’t know it was the last.
If you’re surviving today instead of celebrating
that counts. Full stop.
You’re not weak.
You’re carrying love with nowhere to land.
Light a candle. Or don’t.
Show up. Or don’t.
Breathe anyway.
You’re not alone in this heavy air.
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When the Holidays Hurt