Unlike many of my trauma survivor clients, for whom holidays were often a nightmare, I am one of those people who grew up with a family who knew how to do wonderful holidays. At home in Winter Park, Florida, the holiday season was filled with advent calendars and candles, nativity scenes at Disney World, Christmas cookie baking, homemade presents and art projects, Christmas carols twinkling out of surround sound speakers, and lots and lots of oranges (it was Florida, after all).<\/span><\/p>\n Christmas Eve was cooking in the kitchen with my mother all day to prepare for our annual post-church party for about 100 of my family\u2019s friends, then the candlelit service at the Methodist church, which I loved, then feasting at our party on things I was only allowed to eat once a year, then my best friend Geoff and I would leave the party and go look at Christmas lights, before attending his church\u2019s midnight service, which was the only night all year I got to stay out past 11 o\u2019clock.<\/span><\/p>\n This meant I only got a few hours of sleep before my 9 year younger sister would wake me up, since Christmas morning started no later than 7am. There were trees and stockings (the best part) and bacon wrap ups and the Pillsbury cinnamon muffins with the orange glaze that smelled better than they tasted. Whoever was the youngest person in the house (usually my sister Keli) played Santa Claus and was responsible for deciding which presents got opened when, one at a time, so the present opening could last for hours, while we all appreciated, oohing and ahhing, what each person got. At the end, we\u2019d each have a stack of goodies, in addition to piles of candy that we were only allowed to keep for 3 days. (It all went in the trash by Day 4, so we wouldn\u2019t hoard it all year. So there was a lot of binging.)<\/span><\/p>\n After Christmas morning at home, we split our Christmas\u2019s between Mom\u2019s family and Dad\u2019s- Mom\u2019s in the morning and then Dad\u2019s in the afternoon. On my mother\u2019s side, where she was one of six kids and I lost track of how many cousins I have, it was parades and huge family potluck feasts and lots of presents and a blaring TV and happy chaos at one of my uncle\u2019s houses. On my father\u2019s side, it was Grandma\u2019s paella and everyone playing classical string instruments and recorder flutes, singing along with the piano in full orchestral sound. There were deep dive conversations led by my therapist auntie Trudy, after which we played with my (only two) cousins, who I loved, and then walked around Lake Hollingsworth in Lakeland, Florida, where my Dad\u2019s family all lived.<\/span><\/p>\n That all changed after I grew up and my parents became the only people I know who sold their oceanfront house in New Smyrna Beach, Florida to retire in Ohio. By that point, I had my own family in California, and we started our own traditions. The Muir Beach Holiday art fair my daughter always sold her jewelry in, the over-the-top Rombeiro\u2019s Christmas House in Novato, the dancing Christmas tree in Birdland, treats at the Ferry Building and ice skating in Union Square in San Francisco, Winter Solstice events in the redwoods of Muir Woods, and Christmas Eve caroling with our neighbors by the fireplace over a pint at the old English Pelican Inn.<\/span><\/p>\n My daughter always helped me wrap Christmas presents and came home from school with all her Waldorf artsy presents.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Christmas morning continued the family traditions of the littlest being Santa Clause, all of us in matching hoodie footie pajamas, Trans-Siberian Orchestra blaring from the speakers, a fire in the wood burning stove, bacon wrap ups and sometimes even the sickly-sweet rolls, a homemade frittata, and then a hike in Muir Woods, singing by the usually swollen river recently repopulated with salmon. My mother would come live with us for two months right after her own Christmas in Ohio, so we\u2019d do Christmas again once Mom got there before New Years, followed by New Years Eve festivities and my daughter\u2019s birthday on the now-soiled January 6, with fondue for the whole family at the Melting Pot.<\/span><\/p>\n But this year\u2026I can\u2019t quite find my holiday spirit. My father died two weeks after my daughter was born, my mother died in 2018, my daughter\u2019s father, who lived next door for ten years since our divorce has ex-patriated to Portugal, and my daughter is on a European gap year and can\u2019t come home for the holidays because of visa issues.<\/span><\/p>\n So it\u2019s just me, my partner Jeff, and April, our housemate, au pair, and chosen family, who has lived with us for 13 years and helped me raise my daughter, who will be moving back to the East Coast to be closer to her family, now that my daughter is grown.<\/span><\/p>\n And I am hard core <\/span>grieving.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n I know that an empty nest is what\u2019s supposed to happen when your child is eighteen, and i\u2019m happy for my ex that he\u2019s found a new home in Portugal. But I wasn\u2019t prepared to not see my daughter all year, rupturing that physical bond cold turkey, even though we\u2019re fostering the emotional bond with daily WhatsApp voice messages and weekly Zooms.<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t prepared for April to move back east, even though it\u2019s absolutely what she should do so she can reconnect to her own family, now that her job of helping me raise my child is complete.<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t prepared to have to move out of the rental house I\u2019ve raised my child in for 16 straight years and possibly lose my local community if we can\u2019t find housing in this very small town.<\/span><\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t prepared for a convicted felon to win another election in the country that no longer feels like home to me.<\/span><\/p>\n And I wasn\u2019t prepared for the possibility of needing to re-house my dog, because without my daughter, her father, and April as back up, we\u2019re gone too much to be fair, reliable dog parents and can\u2019t seem to find a good alternative for dog care.<\/span><\/p>\n I also wasn\u2019t prepared for how hard all this collective loss and grieving are hitting me emotionally, like there are tears in my eyes even just writing this sentence, because the parts that are arising in me feel seen and heard (by me, and by you, dear reader.)<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s too much.<\/span><\/p>\n And\u2026I\u2019m very aware it\u2019s not just me, that this is the experience countless people have every holiday season. It creates a kind of cognitive dissonance to feel like you\u2019re supposed to be happy and jolly, but what you\u2019re really feeling is sad longing and heart-wrenching grief, either because you\u2019re missing something or someone you once had, or because you never got what was your birthright to begin with- a family you actually enjoyed spending holidays with, who treated you with dignity, respect, and loving acceptance for who you really are.<\/span><\/p>\n If you\u2019re having nostalgia for good times now past, like I do, at least you can hang onto the silver lining of memories you hold to your chest like diamonds. But if you never got the holly jolly Christmas or the parents who showered you with blessings and affection and Disney dreams or the child of your own whose eyes lit up with wish lists and candy canes, these times can be even harder.<\/span><\/p>\n So I don\u2019t mean to be a downer for those of you having holly jollies. But since you\u2019re probably less likely to be checking your email today than those of us who are grieving, sad, or lonely, this one is for the others like me.<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m trying to practice radical gratitude these days, making sure I don\u2019t take for granted the fact that everything I have not yet lost is worthy of unspeakable joy and heart-opening appreciation. And I\u2019m trying to focus on what is good and new- the adventure of finding a new home to share with Jeff, our first Christmas officially living together as a couple on only one coast, my probably last Christmas with April, the neighbors I\u2019ll still get to sing with on Christmas Eve, and the new traditions I\u2019ll create now, like the Dickens Fair we\u2019re going to this weekend, visiting my friend Ed\u2019s family, like we did for Thanksgiving, and maybe the Filoli Gardens light display I\u2019ve always wanted to see but haven\u2019t made it to when life was more hectic as a mother around the holidays.<\/span><\/p>\n But I also don\u2019t want to bypass the losses. They\u2019re real and deserve their own tears.<\/span><\/p>\n But nothing prepares you for the pit in your stomach every morning, when you wake up to silence and so many fewer responsibilities, and so much achingly less daily joy and happy chaos.<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ll get to the \u201cWhat\u2019s next?\u201d part soon, I\u2019m sure. But for right now, there\u2019s not much forward-looking and excitement about all this open space. There\u2019s just the gaping hole in my heart that can only be filled with my own wise, loving Self, caring for my empty nester parts. And the wonderful moments of connection with Jeff and April and Gaia the Moose (the dog) and my neighbors, who all watched my little girl turn into a beautiful woman and fly away.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n Wherever you are emotionally today, whatever holiday you may or may not be celebrating, my heart goes out to you.<\/span><\/p>\n If you\u2019d like to process any parts that have arisen during the holidays, work on a memoir you might be dreaming of writing, or learn more about using Internal Family Systems as a writing practice for healing and finding your most authentic writing voice, please join me and IFS lead trainer Frank Anderson, MD for WRITE TO HEAL.<\/span><\/p>\n The early bird discount ends 12\/30\/24, so save $100 if you register before then.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/a>Join WRITE TO HEAL here.<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/lissarankin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/12\/An-empty-nest.jpg\"){kind=spacer}
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a>The empty nest is a particularly peculiar kind of ambiguous loss. It\u2019s not like my daughter has died. I chat with her every day. It\u2019s not like she\u2019s done anything wrong by leaving or I\u2019ve done anything wrong to cause her to leave. She\u2019s doing exactly what she should be doing- taking art classes, meeting new people, exploring Europe, going to nightclubs and hanging out with circus performers and fire dancers at midnight, overlooking city lights in Lisbon, individuating from her parents and becoming her own solid, post-pandemic weirdness human.<\/span><\/p>\n
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