By Stacey O’Connell LCPC, PMH-C, Certified Bereavement Care Provider

Holiday season was in full swing.  Cheery colors everywhere I looked, and holiday music blaring through competing speakers anytime I was in public.  For many years now I have felt myself slip into various degrees of “grinchyness” as the holidays marched ever closer.  Despite feeling that way, I went through the motions of putting up a tree, decorating the walls, and joining in festivities from late November through the new year.  I painstakingly arranged elves, candles, wreaths, and platefuls of cookies.  I wanted my kids to have the experiences, and I wanted my friends and neighbors to feel cared for and welcomed.  No matter how much I tried to set my feelings aside and create the most memorable special holidays, I always felt like I fell short. 

This year I had decided to be very intentional about my response to the heaviness in my heart that seemed to get heavier each day that got closer to the holidays.  Was it grief?  I had lost my mother in late December quite a few years ago, and the anniversary of that was something that caused me to pause and reflect.  Truth be told, I miss her every day.  It's not the devastating loss it was in the beginning.  My loss has grown and changed into the kind of ache that comes and goes, and is in fact at times a comfortable connection.  Was it unmet expectations?  I could name several areas of my life that had turned out very differently than I had pictured them, in quite painful ways.  I had always dreamed of having a big family, the children bringing their significant others home, cousins and extended family coming over, but the bottom line was I came from a very small family, and we had drifted in different directions over the years.  My children and I have  celebrated holidays by ourselves for several years now.  I didn’t know if I would ever figure out the cause of the heaviness in my heart, all I knew was that I enjoyed Thanksgiving but then seemed to lose more and more joy from there until January.

I decided one day to go try a new coffee shop that had just opened near my home, and to brainstorm a new approach.  I walked in and took in the smell of coffee beans roasted on-site.  For me, coffee is comfort, so the aroma already helped me feel better.  I waited in line, again noticing the Christmas music that filled the air.  From out of the blue I could feel that sinking feeling in my heart, and the hot pin prick of tears filling my eyes.  Where was this coming from?

I got to the counter, ordered a black cup of coffee, and went and sat at a corner table as far away from the decorations and people as possible.  I settled in, took out my book and my planner, not quite knowing which one I would prefer to dig into. 

I picked up my coffee, cradling the mug in both hands, soaking in the warmth.  It was then I noticed a quote on the mug.  “Dance with your imperfections.”  I read it twice, let it sink in a little bit, and sat just letting myself be in the moment.  For some reason a feeling of comfort washed over me.  I read it a third time and could feel the beginning of a smile.

As I thought about dancing with the imperfections of my life, I thought about what it would look like to view them from a different perspective and engage in the dance.  Yes, this holiday season was going to be very different as logistics were preventing my adult children from being in the same place.  On the other hand, I was going to have one on one time with each of them and was going to get to celebrate our old traditions twice, and maybe make some new traditions.  I felt the rumbling of excitement when I thought about new experiences to embrace with the two people I loved the most. 

It was also true that I had not been decorating with as much gusto and enthusiasm as I had in previous years.  However, while I didn’t have the perfectly prepared home and dozens of homemade cookies, I had enjoyed longer visits with friends, a trip to the museum to see their holiday displays, and an evening spent listening to music and providing handwritten notes to my friends.  Holiday cards in prior years were addressed on my lunch hour and included no note, if I even sent them at all.  It felt nice to send a short sentence or two to those I had not seen in a while. 

I sat for a few minutes and finished my coffee thinking about how I could dance with my imperfections all year long.  I was surprised at how much a coffee mug message could impact my mood and get me thinking.  I pictured myself saying hi to people on the street instead of sticking my hands in my pockets, putting my head down and rushing through my day.  I could give more grace to people when I was disappointed, and I could leave more room to respond spontaneously, rather than trying to plan every detail of my week.

I left the coffee shop with a lighter heart, a smile, and a new coffee mug.  I never even touched my planner or my book.