When I was a kid, December was both a favorite and painful time of year. I loved the decorations. I loved holiday break, when my little Irish grandma came to visit and slept in my room. I loved the holiday choir concert where I sang in the choir and played in the band.
I especially loved Christmas itself – when my mom, dad and older brother would drive across the interstate to spend several days with my mom’s large extended family.
But December also felt heavy. I felt a pall of sadness, this black hole swamp of pain and loneliness. This sadness felt overwhelming and scary, like a cloud covering over everything.
I didn’t feel this sadness as often when I was with my family. That was a relief.
When I wasn’t with my family, I used other buffers to keep the pain at bay: I went to friends’ houses, read a lot of books, played with my dolls, ate a lot of snacks, and watched a lot of TV.
Looking back, I think this feeling was what Sarah Peyton calls alarmed aloneness – when you’re feeling pain, fear or loneliness and you’re alone with it.
Today, in present time, this black hole feeling often announces her presence in December. Somewhere in my body’s wisdom, there’s a date stamp where my body recognizes – Ah, yes! This is that time of year.
And the feelings come.
I don’t always like these feelings and the sensations they bring. And what these feelings most want is welcome, and company – my company, another’s company, the earth’s company.
So I put my hand on my belly and hold these places. I take them for walks with my dog under the moon. I bring them to listening partners who can be with the pain with me.
Today, I took these feelings into the earth where we dug up the sweet potato crop together. An hour later, arms stained with dirt and soil, bearing a bowl of beautiful orange and purple orbs, I noticed that the feelings had moved, as feelings can do.
This is a time of year that can bring up so many tender feelings and swampy places. The holidays pierce the shell of our longings for contact, closeness, and connection and they come seeping out. And when we feel our longings for connection, we also feel our emptiness and loneliness. We feel the places inside that hurt and want some company.
These are not easy things to feel. So please – be gentle with yourself this month. Nestle into the places and rituals that help your feelings move. Let dear ones be with you in your painful places so you don’t have to face them alone. One thing I learned this month: the crackle of flames in a fire is very calming to the nervous system and moves alarm.
And if you want gentle support from me, I have some lovely programs that can help.
It’s counterintuitive, but the places in us that hurt want our company and attention. The more we move towards them, the less alone we feel. The swamp in me bows to the swamp in you.