12/30/2025
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/14HvFCWNyFs/?mibextid=wwXIfr
If youâre feeling a little flat today, let me start by saying this:
You didnât do the holiday wrong.
Thereâs a particular kind of exhaustion that settles in after a holiday when youâre grieving. Itâs not the too much pie kind of hangover (although that may also be present). Itâs an emotional one. The quiet-after-the-noise one.
The âNow what?â feeling.
For weeks, sometimes months, everything builds up to that day.
And then suddenlyâŚitâs over.
The lights come down. The music fades. And people go back to their lives.
And those of us who were just trying to survive it all are left sitting in the stillness thinking, âWellâŚIâm still here. And theyâre still gone.â
Thatâs the holiday hangover.
Itâs that strange mix of relief and sadness. Relief that you got through it. Sadness that getting through it was even necessary. Itâs waking up and realizing the world expects you to be âback to normal,â while youâre just trying to remember how to move without the adrenaline that carried you through the day.
Grief during the holidays takes effort. Smiling takes effort.
Answering âHow was your holiday?â takes emotional strength.
And now that itâs done, your heart is tired.
Hereâs the part I want you to hear: Thereâs nothing wrong with you for feeling this way.
Grief doesnât end when the decorations come down. Love doesnât pack itself neatly into storage bins. And loss doesnât care what the calendar says.
If today youâre feeling low, unmotivated, or emotionally wrung out, welcome to the club no one asked to join. Pull up a chair. I get it.
So be gentle with yourself. Cancel a plan if your heart says no.
You showed up for a season that was hard. That counts for something.
And if all you can do today is breathe and put one foot in front of the other, thatâs not failure, thatâs grief doing exactly what grief does.
Youâre not behind. Youâre not broken. Youâre just human and missing someone you love.
And here, in this spaceâŚyou donât have to pretend otherwise.
Your fellow grief traveler,
Gary